Pleiades
by Dantaron
Summary: What was begun long ago must now be finished. The dead have risen again, and the fate of the world hangs in the balance. Heroes and villains from ages past are drawn together for the final battle in the Apocalypse of Weyard. [sequel to Fivefold Star] [MS]
1. Chapter 1, Shadow Rising

**Pleiades**

Chapter 1

_You're a failure, Alex. Your life has no meaning._

The wind whistled around his ears as he plummeted into the abyss. His body was shattered from the Wise One's powerful Psynergy, and his mind was in shock. His tormented subconscious insisted on recalling his last moments in the waking world.

_This cannot be! Who is responsible for this treachery? Who has robbed me of my dream?_

On a lower level, his brain registered the total darkness around him, as well as the arid dryness of a cavern that had not seen air in three thousand years. The smell of it was musty, and the air was thick. It was nigh impossible to breath, and Alex's struggling mind wondered how long the air would last in this abysmal cave.

_Rise, storms! Rise up and unleash your might upon Vale and the foothills of Mt. Aleph!_

The walls were an ephemeral violet, a faint glow like a dying candle that might sputter and extinguish at any moment. All over his unconscious form, the light enshrined him, giving the ethereal glow of an angel, or perhaps a devil.

_The Golden Sun... The very quintessence of Alchemy's power! It's beginning!_

He had felt it. That all consuming power that legends call the Golden Sun, the Stone of Sages, and the most ancient scrolls Sol Aurarius. For just the barest second, his being was flooded with power, and every nerve and cell tingled. He knew, _knew_, he could shape the world.

_How? What's going on? I should be all-powerful! How can you defeat me?_

And then it was gone. Drained away, and he suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of the Wise One.

_You are not all-powerful, Alex. Your power has its limits, as does your life._

It was then he felt the first bitter taste of despair. All his machinations, all his plotting, his betrayals, brought to nothing in an instant. He had nothing more to live for.

_I, the Wise One, imbued the Mars Star with some of the power of the forming Golden Sun. It rests even now in the hands of young Isaac._

He remembered Mia. Her kind words, her beautiful face… and then the pain her saw, marring that angel's face, when she learned of his betrayal. Oh, if she had known he only meant for her to rule by his side, as his queen! She could have had everything, if only his plan had worked… but it hadn't.

_Wh-Who are you?_

Now he had only one goal.

_I am called the Wise One..._

Vengeance…

The shaft suddenly branched out into a massive chasm, thousands of feet below the earth. Blue-flamed torches lighted the walls, which were horribly twisted and mangled. It was so mammoth every city on Weyard could be lost in there, with room to spare. The farthest reaches were barely visible, only a tiny pinprick that marked the light of a torch. There was a name for this place: Morxez.

Alex hurtled to the floor, an insignificant speck in the darkness. He crashed, and the sound from the impact resounded through the cavern, shaking motes of dust from the ceiling and rocks from the walls.

He landed on the back of his head, shattering his skull instantly. The rest of his body impacted, and his spine was pulverized in several places. His body bounced and twisted, and he came down again, breaking his left side completely, and his ribs splintered, driving shards into his internal organs. His arm suffered something far worse than a greenstick fracture, it was more or less torn off by a jagged stone. He rolled, dead to the world, and came to a stop against a sculpture in the shape of a grinning skull.

It was many stories high, at least, towering over three hundred feet into the darkness. Its eyes were black hollows, and the carved teeth in its mouth looked like they were splashed with blood. It was leaning to the rear, the back of its stony mass fused with the ground in a veritable maw of stalagmites.

_If you survive, perhaps we shall meet again someday…_

There was silence in the chamber. The dust had just begun to settle from Alex's fall, yet it had attracted the attention of the denizens of this cave. Creatures who had lived forever, who were banished to the heart of the earth and doomed never to see the sun again. They were ages old, they dug the caves, and they shaped the mountains. They served countless men and women who sold their souls for power, wealth, and fame. And now, like moths to a flame, they drew near to this new thing. But the mightiest of them all took a special interest in this new arrival.

"Halt!" A voice cried, dark and twisted with malice. Every being, no matter how great or small, from spectre to abomination, froze.

_If you survive…_

With purpose in every stride, a long figure clattered its way towards the skull, and the body that lay beneath. With each footstep, there was a sound like pigs' knuckles grinding together, and something being dragged in the dust. It was only a mere outline in the shadows, vaguely humanoid, but it outstretched an arm and was revealed in all its hideous glory. The eye sockets blazed to life in massive balls of blue fire, casting an icy light on the figure.

It was a grinning skeleton, with bones not the pearly white of the newly dead, but the brazen bronze of the centuries old. Its grinning teeth chattered like castanets as it walked, and its eyes were orbs of red fire. It wore a hooded black cloak that clung to its ribs and drew inward at its waist, where there was nothing but a spine. Joints were bent and twisted by non-existent muscles, and its long pointed fingers were each tipped by a hooked claw. By both the tone of his voice, the broadness of the skeleton, and the power in his body, one might say it was a male skeleton.

He stopped over the body of Alex, and gave a quiet snort with long-decayed vocal cords. "Poor fool. To think he could best that miserable guardian, with just a shred of Sol Aurarius' power. And yet, that shred could be of use…" His clawed hand reached out to the fallen Imilian's shattered skull, and then paused in midair. "Yet… yet…" He whispered softly, and the other shades listened in respectful silence. "You may be of use to us." The skeletal hand closed softly around his head, and the orbs of fire dimmed as the skeleton entered his mind.

… _perhaps we shall meet again someday._

Memories flashed by. Summer in Imil as a child, the first feel of flowers, his first kiss with Mia, the majestic Mercury Lighthouse. Plots, schemes, guilt he felt early on when he used or gained someone's trust only to ultimately betray them. The shattered look on Mia's face as Alex revealed himself on Mercury Lighthouse, and the burning hate he saw in her eyes ever after. The skeleton saw all these memories and made them his own.There was a flash, and he arrived in Alex's soul.

It was an endless field of tundra, ravaged by a continual blizzard and heaped with snow four feet deep. It was flat and featureless, and seemed to stretch on forever. The skeleton wrapped his cloak tightly around him – a courtesy, since he was above feeling such sentimentalities as hot and cold - and forged into the wilderness.

"The human soul is such a marvel," he said quietly to himself as he walked. "Given the basic spark by the One God," he spat, "they are shaped and formed by a life of experiences. Memories, emotions, character… some think those are held in the brain. The brain is merely the lens through which the soul shines… emitting everything in its nature."

"Memories," he said, remembering the wealth he had uncovered as he entered.

"Hopes," he said, and the tundra faded away, replaced by a read-as-life image of Alex, perhaps year or two younger than when he died, poring over dusty scrolls with only a small candle to lit it. The scroll was old and weathered, depicting a sphere with a complicated rune at each of the cardinal points. A brilliant sun was drawn at the centre of the sphere, but the ink that had traced it had almost faded to nothingness.

A tagline near the bottom read _Sol Aurarius. Amalgamation of the four elements, and key to unlocking the nature of the world. The one who controls it will be the God of Weyard, and have everything their heart desires: riches, power, and immortality…_

"Fantasies," he said, and the image of the musty archive faded, replaced by that of a steaming hot spring. A seventeen-year-old Mia and a twenty-year-old Alex sat the shallows, both clad only in towels. Alex draped his arm protectively across Mia's shoulders, and Mia nuzzled her head against his chest affectionately. Their heads bowed toward each other, and an obscuring curtain of steam rose.

"Triumphs." The skeleton concluded, and the spring faded away, replaced by an image of Alex, sweaty, ragged, but with an unpleasant smile on his face as he stood on the summit of Mount Aleph. A beam of golden light lanced down from the heavens, and he raised his arms to receive it, feeling his body being filled with power unimaginable.

The skeleton released his control on the Imilian's mind, and the icy tundra returned, but this time there was a bluish haze at the end of his vision. The undead creature pondered this, and clapped his hands together. He levitated a foot off the snow, and hurtled across the tundra at lightning speed.

The blue haze gradually grew and became more defined, into suddenly it came into focus as the majestic tower of the Mercury Lighthouse. It was luminous in snow, and it seemed night was falling. The farthest reaches of the tundra grew dark and blackened, disappearing from sight. The snow appeared to haze and lose texture, before blurring back to its flaky nature. The landscape was becoming blurry, as if seen through double vision. The only part that remained unchanged was Mercury Lighthouse.

The skeleton knew the cause of this distortion. Alex of Imil, the Mercury Adept who thought he would rule the world, was dying. And the apparent invulnerability of the dream-Lighthouse was a sure indication that _it_ was there.

He stepped almost daintily inside the imposing door to the inner sanctum. Or tried: a blue barrier flashed across the open door, and he was flung backwards. He frowned, and folded his bony arms across his skeletal chest.

He seemed to come to a decision, and raised one palm. There was a ripple in the air, he was seeing into water, and then the disturbance hit the barrier. There was a sound like glass shattering, and the blue barrier broke into shards, leaving a hole like a monstrous force had gone through.

Satisfied, the skeleton carefully stepped around the glinting shards of the barrier, and found himself suspended in a pitch-dark void. Behind him was the receding archway, where the blowing snow was becoming more and more distorted. Nothingness stretched as far as he could see in every direction, and he was propelled forward, deeper in. The door quickly receded and was gone.

There was a whirring noise, and a trio of blue shades appeared and began to circle him. The skeleton gave a disdainful sniff. "Begone," he said, and there was a metallic screech. The shadows blew away like wisps on the wind, and he proceeded forward.

_Te-te-ti-te-tin-te-tah. _There was a series of sharp clicks, and a web of silver energy encased him. The skeleton reached out with one hand and appeared to grab the air. Adepts would have seen an immense hand reach out and grab the threads of the web in its fingers. The skeleton drew back his hand and the psynergetic hand mimed his movement, drawing the net dangerously close to the skeleton before it snapped, and dissipated.

"They don't make traps like they used to," he murmured. As punctuation to his sentence, a golden star erupted in front of him, sending millions of searing spines through his body. He screamed mutely, and sagged a bit in his flight. His robe was in tatters, but the exposed bone beneath was more or less unharmed. He muttered something under his breath, and an opaque black shell encased him. A few seconds passed, and then the shell split in half and the skeleton emerged, looking good as new. His fiery orbs lessened to slits as he made his version of a blink, and then contemplated what he saw.

Where the golden star had erupted there was a small stone, the size of a large grape. It was a white gold in colour, and shone of its own light. It was translucent, like the purest gem, and it rotated slowly. Hungrily, the skeleton reached for it, but there was an azure flash, and a spectre stood before him. Alex, unharmed and enraged.

"How dare you enter _my_ mind? Fog and frost, is nothing sacred anymore?"

The skeleton stepped back, and contemplated this newest obstacle. "Alex…" he said as gently as he could, which was still wind rushing through a dark canyon. "What use is it to you now? You're dying. Give me the stone willing, and perhaps I will spare your soul from being devoured." His fingers flexed, and Alex felt a twist run through his essence. He crumpled over from the pain, and then straightened, a deep look of hatred marring his features.

"On one condition," he spat. "You bring me back to life. For a being such as your magnitude, it should obviously be no problem." The Imilian's words were dripping with sarcasm and thinly veiled disdain.

The skeleton looked as if he was going to blast his shade and risk harming the jewel in the process, then thought better of it. His skeletal teeth spread in a companionable grin. "Granted. Give me the stone."

Sullenly, Alex outstretched his hand, and the Stone of Sages appeared there, disappearing from its floating position behind him. He tossed the stone almost angrily to the skeleton, who caught it. With a mocking bow, the skeleton turned and vanished, leaving Alex to stew in his dying body.

Slowly, the skeleton relinquished his grip on the Imilian's head, and looked around at the monsters around him. The looked at him inquisitively, and he ducked his head, allowing his fiery eyes to glint gold for a moment.

Nodding, one by one the beings fell to their knees around him, leaving him the sole creature standing. The skeleton turned his head with measured speed and gazed down on Alex.

He outstretched his hands, and began to weave a complex pattern over the blunette's body. Whispering shadows detached themselves from the darkness and began to wreath themselves around the Imilian, cloaking him in darkness. An infernal red glow began to rise from the stones around Alex, which began to crack, allowing more hellish light to seep through. There was a rumble, and a massive clawed hand of bone erupted from the ground, lifting the limp body of Alex high into the air. His eyes afire, the skeleton raised his head and spoke his words quicker and more forcefully, his naked teeth clashing together with an inhuman sound.

Beam of unholy violet light shone down from above, bathing the body in an evil glow. The skeleton drew his hands together, and an invisible sphere drew in around the body, compacting the swirling eddies of energy. They vanished inside of Alex's body, and it twitched.

The skeleton raised his hands into the air, and a twinkling shaft of light shone down and illuminated Alex's body. His wounds knit together and his skull repaired, and the colour returned to his face from its deathly pale state. The light halted, and Alex stirred.

With a grinding sound, the skeletal hand drew into the ground, stopping with just the fingertips protruding, and Alex at ground level. There was a high-pitched screaming, and then it stopped. Alex opened his eyes.

They were the same blue they had always been, yes... But there was a ring of ebony around the edges, as a mark of where his loyalties lied, and also as a reminder of the debt he owed the necromancer who raised him.

The skeleton lowered his hands and looked levelly at the newly risen Adept. "You may stand, Alex of the Shadow."

"Yes, my lord," he replied tonelessly. He climbed to his feet and stood before the robed figure, head bowed.

"Look at me," the skeleton commanded, and the man raised his head. His blue hair was laced with streaks of greasy black, and his face had distinctive markings, similar to a Proxian's, but black. "Who is your lord? Whom do you serve?"

"The necromancer who raised me. You, my lord."

"Very good," the skeleton chuckled. "You may call me that from now on: Necromancer, or simply Necro, since we know each other on such a deep and intimate level."

"Thank you, my lord." Alex bowed his head for a moment as a token of submission.

"Alex, who shall also be called _EPMTPHGADO._" The last word was booming, thick with power and held an electric quality. Alex shivered as he heard it, and the word appeared in his mind's eye. The letters rippled, and transformed into another name, which he took as his own.

"Do you know what is required of you?" The skeleton said idly, tapping a foot on the dusty floor.

"The retrieval of the remaining pieces of Sol Aurarius, which have been lost throughout the ages."

"Such a loyal servant," the skeleton sighed, and turned to the monstrosities around him.

"Creatures dark and mighty, all servants of one dark lord after the other! We have assisted every tyrant to rise in one way or the other, but all have failed! Follow your commander to triumph!" He indicated the emotionless man standing beside him, and all the monsters sank to the ground in submission. The eyes of Mantrak burned in the darkness as they nodded their approval, and fouler things hissed in cheering.

The necromancer raised his hands, and instantly a silence fell over the assembled, and Morxez was as silent as death. The next words he spoke were a bare whisper, but they carried to the deepest depths of the cavern.

"Let it begin."


	2. Chapter 2, A New Journey

Here I am again, with chapter 2. A huge thank you to everyone who reviewed I always appreciate it. And in keeping with my new tradition, review responses!

**Vaescent,**  
Yes, I know what you're talking about, but don't hold your breath. Patience, my friend.

**HEY,**  
Let's see, I borrowed blunette from… hm, it was either Dracobolt or Kyarorain. Forgive my memory, it fails me sometimes.  
As for the EPMTPHGADO bit, it was a Lunar word of binding that our little necromancer threw in when Alex wasn't prepared for it, and not yet awake enough to resist it. Basically, the skeleton can now exert some control over Alex, to a certain extent. It also conveyed some information, but that'll show up later. But don't worry, I'll continue to refer to him as Alex, instead of EPMTPHGADO. And no, it doesn't mean anything.

**Meg,** (or should I say Dracobolt?)  
Yes, it was mostly set up, I guess. It will continue to be set up for a while, since this story is going to be fairly big. Just laying the groundwork, now… And no, about that last question. Just no.

**Golden Sun Smiley,**  
Haha, thank you very much. I'll try to keep it going well, so as not to disappoint.

**readergirl-290**  
Thank you, and I think it's only going to get deeper. As for the Fivefold… well, you just have to scroll down and see.

**gnome leader**  
You're right… but maybe Alex will get a chance for vengeance sometime in the future, you know? )

**Critic of Constructiveness**  
Yes, finally a sequel. And like I pointed out above, you don't have to worry about EPMTPGADO again. Hell, I don't even think _I_ know how to pronounce it. But I reckon it would go something like emfe – ga – doe.

Again, thanks to all who reviewed.

**Disclaimer: **The Golden Sun world and most characters therein are copyright of Camelot/Nintendo.

Without further ado…

Chapter 2

_A New Journey_

The Fivefold – Aleos, Maris, Shamira, Orior, and Cinaed - stood silently in a huddled group, each mulling over what they had observed.

With the help of the Void spell Aspectus, they had all seen far into the past, and witnessed the quest that had brought them together. They had hovered, silent as shades, and were forced to relive all the moments of pain, suffering, and trial they had undergone. But there were good times, too.

Although as time passed the legend of the Fivefold Star faded into oblivion, the echoes of their deeds still lived on in the tale of a group of brave and wise men that sealed Alchemy. And by the miracle – and curse – of the Golden Sun's influence, the Fivefold had long passed their lifespan and lived in the present day.

These five heroes, their past confirmed and their memories - almost erased by Sol Aurarius' trial - fully regained, could now face the new age whole.

At length, Aleos spoke. "Even now, I suppose the powers of darkness are stirring, awakened by the rush of Alchemy that flooded Weyard. We must rally the Adepts now, in preparation for war."

Maris sighed. "They won't be happy. They just finished a long and dangerous quest for the sake of the world, and if they learn that it was only the beginning…"

"It will hurt their morale," Aleos said thoughtfully. "But they are heroes, but of stronger material than to crumble at the second danger."

"But how can we tell them?" Maris said, and sat down on a rock, crossing her legs.

"I say we split up," Orior said, and all eyes turned to him. "Approach them individually, or when they're together with someone else. Venus Adepts should approach Venus Adepts, and so on. What do you think?"

Aleos nodded. "It should work. I'll approach Kraden, since I believe the scholar might be instrumental in convincing the others. And he is perhaps the most knowledgeable person on Weyard, after King Hydros."

Maris whipped her head around sharply and stared at Aleos. "King _who_?"

Aleos smiled slightly. "King Hydros… due to both his royal blood and Lumeria's unique barrier, he has lived through the full Dim Age as well… although he is certainly in his decline."

Maris leapt to her feet. "I have to go see him and let him know I'm still alive, before it's too late!" She said frantically, but Aleos put up a warning hand.

"He has lived over the entire Dim Age believing you are dead. A few weeks won't make a difference." Aleos looked around at the other members of the Fivefold. "After the eight Adepts have joined with you, meet outside the gates of Vale. From there, we'll decide what do to next." The Fivefold shifted, getting ready to go, and Aleos held up his hands. "Good luck, and may the Gods go with you."

* * *

Two men were engaged in a fierce battle, each throwing all they had at each other. One of them was tall and lithe like a panther, with hay-coloured hair that was spiked in every direction, the other taller still and more muscular, with a mane of dark hair and chocolate-coloured eyes.

They each held a great sword in their hands, the blades excelling in size and grandeur, but the razor-edge was dulled by a barrier from Granite. The blonde warrior, named Isaac, held a great sword that was wider near the hilt and narrowed gracefully to a deadly tip, called the Sol Blade. The other, Felix, held a thick and huge sword made of black steel traced with red, aptly called the Darksword.

They jumped back, each in a fighting crouch. Felix whipped his hair out of his eyes and twirled the Darksword into a defensive stance, his brown eyes glittering.

Isaac brought the Sol Blade around and leapt at Felix, but the older man simply moved to the side and swept the other's blade away. The blonde kicked with his leg, but Felix caught his foot, and there was a moment of precarious balance before Felix pushed him to the ground.

"You always leave yourself open for a counter, Isaac. I want you to work on that." Felix said. "I don't know how you ever managed to beat Saturos if you can't beat me," his tone was light-hearted, but his eyes darkened.

Seeing Felix distracted, Isaac flipped up on his feet and slashed diagonally with the Sol Blade. Felix's eyes widened as he ducked to the left, the shielded blade whistling over his head. Isaac kept up on his advantage and slashed diagonally the other way. Felix tried to shift to the right, but the blade caught him in the shoulder. He bit back a cry of pain and fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder. He stood slowly, casting Potent Cure on the muscle before massaging it gingerly. He chuckled to himself at falling for such an easy trick.

"What's the matter, Felix?" Isaac taunted. "Losing your touch?" For all they were friends now, there was still a streak of rivalry between them from when they were on opposing sides, and Felix always held Isaac responsible for defeating Saturos and Menardi and the subsequent loss of their lives.

Felix tapped his blade lightly on his hip, the signal for another bout to begin. Isaac immediately ran forward, but Felix pointed one hand minutely toward him and cast Quake. Isaac stumbled, and his sword momentarily drooped. Felix seized the chance and ran forward, slashing vertically as he did so. Isaac barely managed to block the blow, and struggled to stand up as he competed with Felix's strength.

The brunette relented and backed off, smiling slightly as Isaac almost fell over, suddenly caught off guard by the lack of opposing force. In the next moment, the Darksword was flying forward in a diagonal slash. Isaac blocked likewise, and the two blades clashed and locked together.

Felix and Isaac glared into each other's eyes, mahogany into sapphire. They both fell back, however, as a third blade fell over theirs and pushed them all to the ground. This particular blade was leaf-shaped, faintly gold in colour with a green sheen on the edges. The two Venus Adepts followed the blade and stared at the warrior holding it.

He was imposing and carried himself in a regal manner. His hair was feathery gold and fair, as was his skin. He had emerald eyes that seemed to glow faintly, and a green cloak clasped on his shoulder with a lion ornament. Underneath that, he wore a simple tunic that came down to his knees, made of tanned brown leather, over a suit of chainmail. Slowly, he lifted his sword, and let his hand fall to his side. "Isaac and Felix, I presume?" He said, in a gentle baritone.

"Who's asking?" Isaac said guardedly. He kept a tight grip on the handle of the Sol Blade, and his intense blue eyes scanned the newcomer suspiciously.

"An old acquaintance," the man said with a smile. "My name is Orior Solion. We have much to discuss."

"How? I don't remember ever having met you," Isaac said skeptically.

"Yet, I'm sure you will be interested in what I want to talk about. You know of the Golden Sun, correct? Well, there's a threat you must know about…"

* * *

Piers and Mia, as the strongest Mercury Adepts in town, worked to help rebuild Vale by healing the cuts and scrapes of the workers, as well as the more serious injuries. Piers, not willing to be left out of the hard labour entirely, often left the Sanctum to put his sailor muscles to work in carpentry, although he wasn't particularly good at it yet. One of the Valeans would shyly correct him if he made a mistake, shyly because they knew all too well of his status as world saviour.

Mia, too, often left the Sanctum to walk around and chat to the locals, encouraging them in their work and refreshing them on the job. The villagers found her easier to talk to, mainly because of her sunny smile and kind nature.

At the present, though, they were both in the Sanctum, working a particularly hard case. The village blacksmith, Desmond, suffered an accident while working, when he tipped over the anvil he was working on. The iron block landed on his foot and crushed it completely, breaking every bone, while the red-hot chunk of metal he had been working on was sent flying into his side, causing a huge sear in his flesh.

Mia and Piers, not trusting such delicate work to anyone less experienced, tended to him themselves. They enlisted Ivan to cast Sleep repeatedly on the poor man, keeping him under a rough anaesthesia. The blonde Jupiter Adept sat near the head of the man's cot, faintly interested in the proceedings.

The two Mercurians supported his leg on a chair, tenderly poking at his foot with their Psynergy. Mia, for the most part, was instructing Piers.

"See here, Piers. That toe bone connects to this one," she prodded the blacksmith's foot gently, tracing one of the many small bones in the human foot. She cast Ply and guiding the bone to its partner, her face bathed in Ply's blue glow as the bones knitted together. But she furrowed her brow as she inspected the foot, and tilted her head.

"Um, Mia?" Piers spoke up hesitantly. "I think that bone went here," he pointed to the bone just beside it.

"I think you're right, Piers." Mia sighed with exasperation. "We'll have to break it again."

"You guys look a little lost," Ivan offered from his perch at the head of the bed. "I can tap his mind and figure out which bone goes to which, if you want."

"But that's no guarantee you'll do it right," a new voice said, a soft soprano. The three Adepts looked to the door of the sanctum, which just swung shut behind a beautiful woman.

She had deep navy hair that flowed down to the small of her back like a waterfall, and a white ribbon raised a few strands from the top of her head in a burst shape, falling prettily around her face. Her features were petite, and she had almond-shaped aquamarine eyes that spoke of perpetual kindness. They were surprised to see she wore robes similar to Mia's, that is, robes of the Mercury Clan. She wore a long azure cloak over a white formal dress, emblazoned across the front with the symbol of Mercury in blue. She wore pale long gloves that reached up to her elbows, and slipper-like shoes on her feet.

"Allow me to help," she said in her quiet voice. She passed her hand over the man's foot, and a vibrant blue glow emerged from her had, but there was a strange tint to its light that the others couldn't quite place. Within seconds, Desmond's foot knitted itself back together perfectly.

They simply stared as she moved on to the side, and then nodded as she saw Piers and Mia's work. "Good as new." She said happily.

Ivan, at length, found his voice. "Who _are_ you?"

She smiled. "We've met, trust me. My name is Maris Aquarius."

Both Mia and Piers gaped at her. "That's Hydros' family name…" Piers murmured, at the same time Mia said "But that's the name of Imil's royal family from over a thousand years ago!"

Maris simply smiled. "I'm pleased to notice our history has not died. Come, you too Ivan, we have much to talk about."

* * *

Since the blacksmith was out of commission, Jenna and Garet, the resident Mars adepts, were working with some of the other fire-oriented people to forge all the bolts and metal bars needed for construction, although since Vale was primarily a rural town their services weren't needed much. Mostly forging nails and repairing hammerheads broken in construction. Rather then run the risk of burning down one of the new houses, they did all their work in the fields on the banks of the Sirian, the river-stream that ran through Vale.

Garet, being the most well-built of everyone there, did the main work on the metals, while Jenna did simple things like run for tools or dip the hot metals into the river with tongs. Now, everyone was watching as Garet manhandled a huge piece of metal sent from Altin for the reconstruction, as thanks for clearing out the water that had invaded their community. General Valean consensus had decided it was to form a sundial, and Garet thought it was a great idea. He just didn't know how to make one.

Just as he was resigning himself to having to give up in front of all these people, a powerful hand tapped him on the shoulder. "Need some help?" By the sound of the deep bass voice, Garet figured it was a big, strong, blacksmith, but he wasn't prepared for whom he faced when he turned around.

It was a Proxian. A _huge_ Proxian, that made Agatio look like a bug. He was six foot six with massive muscles, and a mane of wild burgundy hair to go with his pale skin. His hazel eyes gleamed with an inner fire, but at the same time looked at him with friendship.

Jenna noticed the newcomer and left her work, coming over wide-eyed to meet the man. She had spent months with Saturos, and she saw that this man carried himself with same kind of confidence and dignity. She noticed his midnight blue armour, crafted in a way that was almost beetle-like, with tints of red on the edges. He was speaking to Garet, and after a few moments her Mars Adept friend handed over the giant hammer to the massive Proxian reluctantly. The Proxian said something else, and Garet turned away and walked towards her.

"Says his name is Cinaed. Cinaed Dracoia," he answered in response to her unspoken question. "Claims to know us from somewhere, and offered his help." Garet shook his head in amazement. "Man, I thought I was strong. Look at him!" He whispered incredulously.

Cinaed sent a gout of flame on the piece of iron with his spell, and then, Fire psynergy glowing through the hammer, started shaping it with mammoth blows. Each impact sent a ripple through the steel and changed its shape, and after a few minutes the Proxian had the block of steel beaten down to a flat disk. A few more and he smoothed it out, and then flipped it over and clipped notches in it to mark the time. Someone offered him a metal rod, which he then fused into the centre of the disk. He inscribed runes at the cardinal points, which he explained were the Proxian numbers for three, six, nine, and twelve.

As the villagers crowded around to admire his work, he walked back to where Jenna and Garet were standing in awe. "Come, we have to talk," he said warmly, and placed a hand on each of their shoulders and guided them away.

* * *

As a token of their gratitude for his continuous advice and wisdom during their adventure, Kraden's house was rebuilt first. As wel, everyone reasoned, the old scholar needed a place to rest his old bones more than they did. Kraden was very grateful, and immediately ordered a slew of new scrolls and books from Tolbi to study.

In short, he was as happy as a clam, since some of the scrolls Iodem - who had taken charge since Babi's death – had sent him he couldn't even begin to decipher, the language they were written in was so old.

One such scroll he had tacked to his desk, which had somehow managed to survive the unleashing of the Golden Sun. He pored over it with a magnifying glass, admiring the runes and complex script characters of the ancients. It seemed gibberish to him, and all he was getting out of it was a headache. He groaned, and put his head down. "I wish I knew what it said!"

He hadn't been expecting an answer, but he got one. A smooth tenor voice answered him from behind him, saying. "All is dark, though the Dark has passed. Regnoare is destroyed, but our world is dim and bleak."

Kraden nearly had a heart attack, and turned to face this mysterious voice. There was a seemingly young man standing there, though his hair was whiter than his own. His face was unlined and vibrant with the health of youth, and his grey eyes were prismatic, reflecting the brown-yellow of Kraden's new home. His style of dress was strange, an black military tunic fastened down the left side with silver buttons, and a grey traveller's cloak over all.

The youth smiled. "I recognize the scroll. Elder Viyat wrote it, the senior of Vale at the time of the setting of the Golden Age. He lost faith in the world when the Dim Age came and killed himself. A tragic story."

Kraden's eyes widened. "Young man, if what you're saying is true, than you are a far greater scholar than I. The name of Viyat was only a barely readable smudge in the oldest of scrolls."

The man chuckled. "Young… I was _there_."

Kraden's eyes bugged even more, if it was possible. "Then who, or what, are you?"

The young man offered his hand to Kraden. "Aleos Argentum." Kraden shook his hand almost gingerly. "You may know me as the Wise One."

It was then that Kraden couldn't take it anymore, and fainted.

Aleos smiled ruefully.

* * *

Shamira stood stock still at the northern entrance to Vale, sending out mental tendrils to discover whom she should approach. It was hard to keep her concentration, though, while marvelling at the sheer will and determination of the Valeans.

In the mere weeks since their village was destroyed, they had already reconstructed some semblance of a community, on more or less the same spot. Though Mount Aleph was no longer the giant it once was after it was largely demolished by the unleashing of the Golden Sun, there were still some remnants of the picturesque streams and valleys where Vale had been built.

The first thing to be repaired was the spire of Psynergy stone that had dominated the courtyard, and with its ability to constantly recharge their power, the Valeans reconstructed swiftly. The houses were to be as much in the style of old Vale as possible, but reinforced with iron supports and girders, to stave off the supposed stronger natural disasters that Kraden said would be coming in the new age.

Already, grass was starting to regrow where it was all seared off the ground, and the spots where cart tires wore the grass thin were already becoming evident. Flagstones were seriously being considered, but that was for a later date, once essential construction was finished.

Since winter just ended, the Valeans could take their time constructing the houses and sleep in canvas tents over the summer. The smaller children were enthusiastic about it, the older men and women less so. Everyone else tolerated it.

All this information Shamira drew from the thoughts of those around her, and fortunately she also detected the two Jupiter Adepts she was to talk to. One of them was in the Sanctum with the two Mercury Adepts. Shamira sensed Maris approaching him, and decided to let her handle him.

But the other… she was alone off by herself, wandering a meadow miles away from New Vale. Intrigued, Shamira probed deeper into her mind and drew up a picture of her being.

No. Way.

Shamira shook her head, but it remained the same. That power signature. That blood. The unknown origins, but the suspicions that had already begin to grow there.

Shamira nodded. This 'Sheba' was right in those suspicions.

Shamira walked as quickly as she could into the cover of the woods before springing to the sky on the wings of Volatilis, an art she had learned from her mother. It summoned wings of Psynergy that resembled a butterfly's, in a way, and they had served the Fivefold well on their journey. But now, Shamira put these to a different use:

Reaching the only other Anemosian on Weyard as she knew it.

* * *

Eventually, the groups of Adepts converged on each other at the gate to old Vale, each one talking excitedly as the Fivefold members summarized what the situation was. They drew a few stares from the villagers hard at work around them, but a glance and a wave usually assuaged their troubles.

In almost perfect timing, the groups walked into the small field at the same time, each in the midst of their own discussion. Orior had briefed Felix and Isaac already, and they were now discussing sword techniques; Cinaed, Jenna, and Garet were arguing who liked fire more; Aleos was correcting Kraden in his knowledge of the Golden Age; and Maris was telling animatedly of the first time she had flown.

The conversations dropped down to whispers, along with promises to continue later. The assembled Adepts formed a circle, sombre yet with smiles on their faces.

Maris looked around, puzzled. "Hey, hasn't Shamira got back yet? I found one of her Jupiter Adepts, yet she should still come back with the other."

Ivan frowned, and nodded. "That's right. In fact, I haven't seen Sheba since early this morning."

"We shall just have to continue without them. Shamira probably has her own agenda, so we need not worry." Aleos reassured them.

"But still…" Ivan started, looking worried. His expressive violet eyes seemed to be frowning as his hand plucked at the edge of his tunic.

Isaac ruffled the younger boy's hair. "Don't trouble yourself. Now," he said, looking up at the others. "I've listened to the story about this Regnoare. I know he once possessed the Stone of Sages, the same thing Alex was after. How are Regnoare and Alex connected?"

Aleos answered, almost without hesitation. "It may be possible that Regnoare somehow survived, or his spirit at least. My _Inanis Magnus_ Psynergy may have destroyed his body, but his will to conquer was so strong he may have preserved himself somehow. He still retains some control over the Stone of Sages, and if he can unite forces with Alex, Weyard may be in danger again."

Felix folded his arms and leaned back, slipping back into the aloof mood he used when facing a challenge. "And what do you purpose we do about it?"

Orior turned to him, tapping the pommel of his blade. "Last time, we managed to defeat Regnoare without resorting to all out warfare across the world." He said quietly. "This time, that may be unavoidable. Our enemy is something we cannot openly fight, for he himself hides in the shadows. Amassing his army…"

Orior paused to let the mental images sink in. "We need an equal, if not greater force." He stomped his foot on the ground, making a muffled _oomph_. "And that means recruitment. I want every capable Adept gathered together, for the grand battle. We will split off according to our elements, and search for those of like affiliation."

Maris elbowed him. "In simpler terms, Mercury Adepts look for Mercury Adepts and so on."

"When do we leave?" Garet asked.

"As soon as Shamira returns, or we may yet be forced to leave without her. In the meantime, would someone like to go for supplies?" Orior requested, looking around.

Aleos nodded. "I'll go. Wait here." As everyone else sat in the grass, Aleos turned and walked towards the item shop.

* * *

A small bell tinkled over the entrance as the grey-haired man pushed open the tent flap, casting his eyes around the cluttered keep and inhaling the scent of dried herbs and bottled potions. It was good to be human again, along with all their mortal senses.

Despite working from a tent, the owner managed to give the place a welcoming appearance. The tent was after the design of modern Shamans, with slits cut in the sides to allow circulation of air and sunlight. The aforementioned herbs and plants were strung from bits of string tacked horizontally to the sides, and modest shelves held the potions and nuts. The itemkeeper was sitting cross-legged on a small stool, and glanced over when the door opened. She appraised the newcomer for a second, and then their eyes locked and she looked away, murmuring a quiet welcome.

The itemkeeper was a young woman in her early twenties, with orange hair pulled back in a ponytail, from which a few unruly strands escaped to frame her face. Her eyes were a brilliant green, and her countenance gave her the appearance of a girl in her mid-teens instead of the woman she was. She wore a tunic with an orange collar, and a vivid strip of green across the fabric below it. The green continued down the sides of the shirt, but melted into white across her front and back. The hem of the shirt was tucked into a shin-length skirt patterned with leaves and vines, coloured in earthy greens and browns. Though she was sitting, Aleos judged her at about five feet five inches in height, about six inches shorter than himself.

"Can I help you?" She said quickly, blurring the syllables a bit. Strangers in her shop were an uncommon thing, although she imagined she'd have to get used to it with the new prosperity that the new age would supposedly bring. She was a bit nervous about it, at any rate.

Aleos stopped his browsing, and walked towards her. By instinct, she leapt to her feet to face him on even ground, but he was still a good six inches taller than her. She mentally kicked herself and waited for him to speak.

"I'd like all the Psy Crystals and healing items you have, as well as your Sacred Feathers," he said casually, as if he was just ordering a Herb instead of cleaning out her stock.

Her eyes widened and she hurriedly began gathering the items together. "Going on a journey, are you?"

The Void Adept sighed. "Hopefully the last… but yes." He looked down on her and smiled softly. "We are journeying to save the world once more."

She looked at him quizzically as she began handing him the items, which he then put in his pack. "But didn't Isaac and Felix just save the world? Well," she paused. "Actually, they did the opposite of what they were supposed to do. But hey, I heard they did the right thing by releasing Alchemy after all! And I'm telling you, it does feel good," she stretched and flexed her fingers, and ripples of Psynergy crackled at the tips.

Aleos paused in the middle of putting a Water of Life in his pack. "You're an Adept?" He questioned, as he turned back to stocking.

She nodded, and then shrugged. "Everyone in Vale is, but I'm not really much of one. Not on the same level as Isaac or his friends, you know? I never really trained before, but I think I'll get stronger in the new age, don't you?" She looked at him warmly.

"Of course you will," Argentum said smoothly. "Now, I'm going to take my leave… may the Gods shine on you, child." He hoisted his pack and pushed open the flap, letting fall behind him with a dull clap.

"'Child', he says," she fumed. "Who does he think he is?" She sat down and tapped the side of her chair, thinking.

* * *

Aleos trudged into the field outside Vale, and found the Adepts huddled in groups according to their elements, with Kraden drifting from circle to circle offering his advice.

"Everyone!" The Void Adept called, and dropped his laden pack to the ground. He opened it, and began passing out the supplies.

Everyone paced over, and Maris smiled cheerfully. "We were just deciding where we should go first. I'm told Mercury Adepts are a rarity in the world nowadays," she said, sighing, but there was a gleam in her eye. "So, we're going to Lumeria to see King Hydros." She almost hopped up and down with excitement.

The Venus Adepts exchanged a glance, and Isaac spoke. "We're going to Gaia Rock first of all, to talk with our friends there. We'll be taking the Teleport Lapis, so hand it over, Ivan." He looked meaningfully at the Jupiter Adept, who jumped and then started rooting around in his pockets. He dug out a small cube of lapis lazuli and tossed it to Isaac.

The Mars Adepts looked at each other and all started talking at once, but a deep-throated roar from Cinaed shut them up. He cleared his throat. "We're going to Prox."

Aleos looked meaningfully at Kraden. "Master Kraden, are you opposed to returning to Tolbi?"

The venerable sage shook his head. "Not at all. I'm sure there's plenty of valuable information we can find there."

"My thoughts exactly," Aleos returned.

"What about me?" Ivan interjected, fidgeting.

Maris turned to him and clapped her hands excitedly. "You can come with us! I hear Xian, which isn't too far out of our way, has a Jupiter Adept, and Shamira can find us in an instant if she wanted to."

"Ah, okay," Ivan said, and relaxed.

"So," Aleos began. "Are we ready to leave?"

"Hey! Wait for me!" A shout rang out from behind them, and everyone turned curiously to see the itemkeeper running towards them, a pack slung over her shoulder and a short mace in her hand. She stopped short in front of them and bent over with her hands on her knees, catching her breath. "I'm… coming… with you…" She straightened and looked at them defiantly.

"Cara! What are you doing here?" Jenna said in surprise.

The itemkeeper put here hands on her hips. "I'm coming with you all, Jenna. And hello to the rest of you, too. So, can I come?"

Aleos opened his mouth to reject her, but Orior was quicker. "I don't see why not. With a bit of training, you might turn out to be a strong Adept as well."

Argentum whirled on him. "Orior! We can't bring her."

The Venus Adept gave a small smile. "Relax, Aleos. We need Adepts, don't we? And it's in these newer generation Adepts we have to trust in."

"You will only interfere in matters you cannot understand," the silver-haired man told her. She looked hurt, and made as if to turn away.

Maris stepped up beside him. "Come on Aleos," she said softly. "Let her join us." She grinned suddenly and elbowed him in the side. "Besides," she whispered. "She's kinda cute, eh?"

"Only you could get away with that remark, Maris," he whispered back. He gave a deep sigh. "Itemkeeper, you may join us."

The shopkeeper turned back around and smiled. "Really? Thanks!"

"Not only that," Maris went on, "you can travel with Aleos, our silver-haired friend here."

The former Wise One glared at her.

"Are we ready to leave?" Piers suddenly spoke up after his long silence. "I am eager to see Lumeria again."

Orior nodded. "I think so. Everyone!" He called, and all eyes turned to him. "We'll travel together as a group until it's time to split up. Keep your eyes open for prospective Adepts at all times. And may the elements shine on us."

Echoes of blessings followed that, and everyone began talking to each other amiably. Cara approached her two travelling partners shyly. "I guess we're going together, huh?"

Kraden beamed at her. "Don't worry, child. But who's managing the store while you're gone?"

"My little sister," she assured them. She turned to the Void Adept, who was looking off in another direction. "You're… not angry with me, are you?"

Aleos turned to her and gave a small smile. "I'll admit I had my misgivings about letting you join us, but now… it's a pleasure to have you with us, Cara."

She smiled back. "Thank you!"

Isaac, Felix, and Orior stood together off to the side, each watching the others socialize. "Yet another journey," Felix said quietly.

"Yeah. I thought it was finally over," Isaac said just as quietly. He stretched and turned to the man he had just met. "Orior, what about you? You told us about Regnoare, but practically nothing about yourself. What's your story?"

Orior's eyes betrayed nothing. "I'll tell you some other time," he said, distracted.

"Isaac," Felix said seriously, and the blond turned to look at him. "He'll tell us when he wants to, but hopefully sometime soon." He paused. "I held back my side of the story for too long once, and two of my best friends died because of it…"

Isaac put a comforting hand on his shoulder. 'That was in the past, Felix. This is a new journey."

"Yes… yes, it is."


	3. Chapter 3, Truths Revealed

And so the story continues. This one went up a bit later than usual, since I had a fanfic challenge to do. Well, I hope you enjoy it. ) But first, review responses!

_Hey,_  
Yeah, I always see Isaac as the one more likely to use the light-oriented Sol Blade, while Felix with the Darksword. And yeah, that blacksmith is Desmond. Concerning a possible Aleos/Cara, it's not even confirmed if it's going to be there. And even if it is, it won't come into play for a long long time. Their relationship… well, you'll see. Reeled in, eh? Excellent, and thanks for the review.

_readergirl-290,_  
Well, you have to remember, the GS heroes and the Fivefold _have_ met before. They are the tablet guardians, you know. Thanks for the review, and perceptive about the contents of this chapter, too. But simply talking isn't really Shamira's style, you know…_  
_

_Waeyon-thunderlord,_  
Yeah, I know it does. I look back on some of my earlier work, and the urge to go back and rewrite it gets on my nerves sometimes. ;; But ah well. Glad you like it.

_Golden Sun Smiley,_  
Heh, it had better taken off easily. I _did_ write Fivefold Star before this, after all, so this has plenty of base. So, thanks. Comments like those make it worthwhile writing… and reviews in general, of course. As for Cara, she's been there all along. The itemkeeper in GS1 is her, as you probably know. But… yeah, it was kinda rushed, but ah well. ) Thanks for the review.

_Dracobolt,_  
Hah, we aren't even done with prep work yet. And I hope I don't disappoint… which I'm sure I won't. P Thanks for the review, mate. XD Wouldn't it be surprising as hell if I actually did listen to you and put some in? 0o Don't worry, I won't. snickers

_Vaescent,_  
Another journey, indeed. Thanks for the review, and about 'that time'… don't expect it anytime soon, but I haven't picked a precise time for it yet.

Whew. That's getting to take up quite a bit of space… which is a good thing! Remember, reviews feed my inner muse, who might die of starvation otherwise. ;; Without further ado…

Chapter 3

_Truths Revealed_

"So where exactly are you taking me?" Sheba shouted for the tenth time, but the woman holding her just smiled calmly and ignored her. Frustrated, the blonde Jupiter Adept struggled against the forearm pinning her to the woman's side, but it was no use. Sheba sighed and began drumming her fingers on the woman's vambrace, which elicited a weary-sounding 'Stop that'.

"Make me," Sheba said irritably, not in the mood to co-operate.

The woman loosened her grip for a moment, and Sheba gasped as she felt gravity begin to make itself known. The woman tightened her arm again and spoke smugly. "If you don't, I'll drop you. From this height, it will likely be fatal."

Sheba pouted.

How was she to know that when she bent down in that field to watch a butterfly landing on a flower, this random woman would actually _fly_ up behind her, grab her around the waist, and carry her off into the sky without a word of explanation?

"Can you at least tell me your name?" Sheba asked, trying to be nice. She figured that at how-many thousand feet over Weyard, she should at least make an effort to be friendly to the person holding her life literally in her arms.

The woman glanced down on her, and Sheba was once again struck by her unique appearance. The woman's face was slender and almost elven, with a small mouth and large lilac eyes. Her skin was somewhat tanned, and her wispy violet hair was blown back by the rushing of the wind. She wore an indigo tunic with a plate of blue leather for upper body armour, and an amethyst circlet in the likeness of a flying eagle on her forehead. Her arms, which Sheba had such a good look of, were sleeved in an almost pink cloth, with a dark purple brace over her forearms and matching leather gloves on her hands.

"Oh, all right," the woman said finally. "Shamira Skyshroud. Not Mira, not Shammie. Shamira." She looked down and smiled tolerantly. "Is that good enough, little Sheba?"

The blonde remained unfazed. "So. You're a Jupiter Adept and read my mind. Thought so. The hair was a bit of a giveaway, and those," Sheba jerked her head towards the iridescent wings on Shamira's back, their violet colour glittering in the sun. "More or less sealed the deal."

"You might want to take a deep breath now, little Sheba, the air should be getting thin soon," Shamira advised.

"Don't call me 'little Sheba'," she responded tartly. "And I won't call you Shammie."

"You might want to save your air," Shamira shot back.

Sheba looked down, wondering how high they were, and suddenly found she couldn't pull her gaze away. All of Weyard was spread below her like a tapestry, with little farms, towns, and mountains sewn into it. The four lighthouses gleamed beneath like jewels, reduced to the size of her thumb in her vision. It was beautiful. She located Lalivero easily enough, and wondered how Faran was doing. She hadn't seen him in months, though she'd received plenty of frantic letters. She felt a pang of guilt in her heart as she thought of home, and bit her lip.

"Home…" Shamira said softly. "Girl, have you ever wondered where you came from?"

"It's considered rude to read minds, you know. And yes, I have," Sheba said. "It's what I've been looking for all my life. The reason why I originally joined the quest to light the lighthouses was so I could find that home, and with it, maybe a purpose in life. I mean, I know I have friends and all that care for me, but I've always wondered just _who I am._ Nobody seems to know where I came from."

Shamira replied, keeping her soft tone. "That's where I'm taking you. Home."

"Up here?" Sheba replied skeptically. "That's ridiculous. The only thing that's up here is the moon and the sun. Since the sun's obviously out of the question, that leaves the moon, and all the moon is…" A slow grin spread across Sheba's features as she realized what that meant. "Aha! I was right, wasn't I! I'm from Anemos!"

Shamira beamed. "Yep. Clan of Jupiter, race of Truth. I recognized your soul signature when I came to Vale, and thought it was time to bring you home."

Sheba was ecstatic. "So, does that mean you're from Anemos too? And they sent you to come and get me?"

"From Anemos, yes. Sent to get you, no," Shamira said slowly. "I myself haven't been to Anemos in… a long time."

"Then how do you know this is how you get there?" Sheba said, doubt beginning to seep into her voice. "This kind of situation," she said, glancing below her. "Doesn't exactly leave room for doubt."

"An old friend told me, long ago. She was a knight of Anemos, brave and full of valour, like they all are. You have allied with Coatlitcue, right?" Sheba nodded. "Well, this was the knight that bound Coatlitcue in the first place."

Sheba nodded. "I see. She must have been very great." Suddenly, her eyes widened. "Wait, long enough ago to seal Coatlitcue? And you knew her? How old are you?"

Shamira gave a weary smile. "Far past my time, that's for sure." Her psynergy wings continued to beat the air, carrying them higher and higher. "This should be far enough," Shamira said decisively. "Ready?"

Sheba noticed for the first time how cold it was, and as Shamira had said the air was a lot thinner. But Jupiter Adept she was, she summoned air from the reservoir below her and took a deep breath. "Ready."

The violet-haired woman held her tighter and pumped her wings twice more to gain more altitude, before stretching them taunt to glide. She concentrated on the Anemos she once knew, and prepared her spell.

"Teleport!"

There was nothing quite like the sensation of teleport, Shamira reflected. As you focus on the image of your destination, your body dissolves into a million molecular particles, and your mind blanks out as you're whirled to the chosen place.

There have been tales however, of those who formed an incorrect mental image of the place they wanted to go to, and then, the Teleport Psynergy couldn't recognize the chosen destination and would leave them in the horrible limbo of being broken into a million pieces, scattered across Weyard. The lucky ones die instantly, while some… well, it's better not to think of such things. Especially at a time like this.

As she cast Teleport with the image of her Anemos in her eyes, Shamira knew of this risk. The Anemos she formed the image of was from a thousand years ago, and was located on Weyard, not Luna. If there was enough of a difference between then and now, she and Sheba would both die.

The transfer of Teleport usually lasts about ten seconds, long enough for your body to dissolve and the particles to travel to your destination and reassemble. This time, though, it was longer. Shamira's disintegrated mind ticked away the seconds silently. 'One… two… three…" Things looked okay so far, though that's simply a figure of speech. In Teleport, the five senses are rendered useless, and there remains only a vague sense of your surroundings. "Five… six… seven…" At ten, Shamira's doubt turned to panic. Something had gone wrong. Perhaps her destination had changed, or perhaps the distance between Weyard and Luna was simply too great. Was she so arrogant that she thought she could jump through outer space?

At thirteen, lucky old thirteen, Shamira felt a sense of drawing together, and couldn't help but give a silent cry of relief.

Shortly after, her body reassembled and she fell into a pile of fine white dust with a hollow _oomph_, Sheba beside her. Sheba coughed into her hand a couple of times, and then looked around blearily. "Are we here?"

Shamira wiped the dust from her eyes, and let out a gasp of surprise. "If we aren't, then who built _that_?"

Looking up at the moon from Weyard, no one would have suspected the vast civilization that lived on the other side. The place where Shamira and Sheba Teleported to was all that remained of Old Anemos, a few forsaken pillars and crumbled sky platforms, the modern translation of the old tongue for the many rises that once consisted of Anemos. The old royal castle, a magnificent tower of gemstone, lay disused ignobly on its side in the dust, a fallen memoir from the Golden Age.

The land of Luna was like nothing either Shamira or Sheba had ever seen before. The sky was a very faint blue and the earth was for the most part, a fine white dust. However, plants managed to spring through the 'soil', willowy-looking things that waved high in the air, surpassing twenty feet. Many of them resembled giant twigs, about two inches through yet incredibly tall and flexible. There was something that resembled a giant puffball at the end of the stalk, perhaps two feet in diameter. As the two stunned Adepts watched, one of the puffballs disintegrated, dispersing tiny specks into the dust around them.

"Looks like a dandelion," Shamira murmured.

Sheba looked at her sideways. "You're kidding."

"I'm not. It's obvious things have changed on Luna since Anemos arrived, and it seems the city brought the plants of Weyard with them. They must have produced this air, too." She breathed deeply. "It's so pure."

Sheba gave a half-hearted smile. "You know, it is. I wouldn't mind living up here.." She added softly.

Shamira just shook her head. "We'll see."

Sheba looked back the way she came. "On second thought, it looks like Anemos is in ruins. What if they got here, they found they couldn't survived and all died off?"

Shamira bit her lip. "I don't even want to think of that. Let's just look for them." They started walking across the surface, kicking up dust as they went.

"I still don't trust you, you know," Sheba said suddenly. "I mean, a citizen of a long lost civilization suddenly comes out of nowhere, claiming she can take me to my birthplace. You have to admit, it sounds somewhat fishy."

"What, you don't believe this is Luna?" Shamira said, a cock-eyed grin on her face.

"I didn't say that," Sheba said, shaking her head. "But who are you?" Sheba said, turning to face her. "We're both Jupiter Adepts, so you can block me from your mind if I tried to find out that way. So why don't you just tell me? We're going to a place I've never been to, and I want to know everything first."

"I told you," she answered in exasperation. "Shamira Skyshroud." S

heba gave an equally exasperated sigh. "I know that! But who are you, really?"

Silence reigned for several minutes as the two squared off, bright determination in Little Sheba's eyes, and hesitance in Shamira's. At length, she looked away, and asked. "Are you sure you really want to know? You may not like the truth…"

"Yes!" Sheba said emphatically.

Shamira took a deep breath and turned to face the smaller Adept. She seemed to grow taller, and began speaking. "I am Shamira Skyshroud the 1st of the Anemosian Royal Family, named so after a prophecy at my birth saying that I would guard a great force. I was Crown Princess at the time of the end of the Golden Age and Anemos' flight to Luna, and furthermore I was one of the five great Adepts that sealed Alchemy from the catastrophe, Regnoare, who stole the power of the Golden Sun."  
"That is why I have approached you. In this new age, all Adepts must be made aware of the threat of one possessing that sacred stone," she paused to let that sink in. "Your quest isn't over, Sheba."  
Before she could say anything in response, Shamira continued. "As well, Anemos was to be alerted when it was time to return to Weyard."

"You mean the Anemosians will be returning?" Sheba jumped in.

But Shamira was not finished, and held out a hand. "But that was my mortal self, before I 'died'. My true self is one you know well enough," Shamira stated, and as she continued her voice dropped several octaves, becoming deep, malevolent and thick with power. The space around her shimmered as if through a desert haze, and her features rippled.

"I am also the guardian of a portion of Sol Aurarius, and keeper of Catastrophe." A azure helmet closed over her head, and she grew several feet taller and broadened out, her deep blue and violet-hued clothes changing to sky blue. A great rapier appeared in her hand, and she took a few steps back from the other Adept. "_I am Sentinel, the guardian of Wind."_

Sheba's mouth dropped open and she took a step back, shaking. "No way! We destroyed you!"

The massive warrior shook her head sadly. "_The Sol Aurarius that I hold forbids me to die. You destroyed my physical body, and in doing so freed me from the cursed madness that the Golden Sun brings. Now, it is mine to control."_ She clenched her hand and there was a flash of gold, and then only Shamira, human once more, standing before her.

Sheba rubbed her hands together nervously. "So, no hard feelings, then?"

Shamira gave a half smile. "No. In fact, I should be thanking you. I'm free from that blasted madness." Her smile became fuller, now, and in fact a little laugh escaped her lips. "And don't worry. I can sense Anemos nearby…" She set to walking forward, up the incline of a steep hill. "The signature of a city of Adepts is hard to hide."

Sheba gave a weary sigh and started trudging after her. "So, Shamira. What are Anemosians like?"

Shamira turned her head back, but didn't stop walking. "Anemosians? We're the bravest, strongest, wisest, most feared _and_ most beautiful clan in Weyard. We're so stealthy and silent, not even our shadows know where we are. People come by the thousands to come and seek our sagely advice; masters of masters come to train beneath us; kings send us gold and jewels to seek our friendship, and our enemies beg for our mercy and goodwill. Our warriors are as swift as the wind and as deadly as lightning, and the blood of Yegelos himself flows through the royal family. Venus Adepts wish they could be like us, Mercury Adepts take lessons from us in healing, Mars Adepts in war. In essence, the Anemosian is the perfect being."

Sheba sweatdropped. "An unbiased view, please?"

"You'll see," Shamira said, and grinned broadly.

They hill they were climbing was not just any hill. It curved away off in the distance, and there was a sudden lip at the top, marking a likely steep incline on the other side as well. The terrain was treacherous, as the loose dust that seemed to be the default soil on Luna made it easy for the rocks they stepped on to slide easily from beneath them. More than once, they slipped back down several yards, erasing their progress as well as dirtying their clothes.

After a good ten minutes of this, when Sheba was reduced to muttering curses under her breath, Shamira lost her patience. She jumped backwards down the slope and cast Volatilis, landing in the dust and springing upwards in quick succession. She swooped up behind Sheba and grabbed her under the armpits, and beat her wings furiously to get in the air.

Sheba bit back a scream. "Shamira, warn me when you're about to do that, okay?"

Shamira grunted in response. "Harder.. to fly… here. Gravity's less, granted… but air's thinner. Hang on, there's the edge." Shamira gathered her butterfly wings behind her, then pushed down for one last ascension. Sheba's dragging feet clipped the edge of the hill on the way by, and she yelped in pain.

The young blonde sighed. "You're a pain in the neck Sha- is that Anemos? Holy Jupiter, it's amazing!"

Shamira craned her head back to look towards the top. "It sure is…"

The slope they were climbing turned out to be nothing less than the lip of an immense crater, miles in diameter, with the sprawling metropolis of Anemos within. The inside walls of the crater were swept clean of any dust and polished to a mirror-like sheen. In the centre of the crater stood a towering pagoda, a building in the Eastern style. It had a square base maybe a thousands yards across, and countless floors, each marked with a gabled and arched roof. At the very top was a great spire of steel, from which lightning continually crackled and occasionally leapt down to strike the surface. Its top stood level with the lip of the crater, which was in itself almost a mile deep.

Wires came down from varying levels of the tower, roosting themselves in similar spires inside the crater. These spires stood on towers similar to the old _divumi_, and were packed so densely the glassy surface of the crater was mostly hidden behind a veritable forest of pillars, which were aligned in neat, precise rows.

And, flitting like butterflies from platform to platform and back to the tower, were the Anemosians. Here, in seclusion from the rest of Weyard, Volatilis was openly used. Beforehand, it was considered one of the elite techniques of the Jupiter Clan, and few even knew of its existence.

Sheba could do nothing but stare in awe. She always imagined what her homeland would be, and who her people were. But she never thought that the Anemosians would look like _angels_.

The seemed hardly terrestrial at all. They wore light, almost translucent robes of a white material, with a close fitting violet undergarment beneath that was barely visible. For the most part, they were of small slender statue with wispy, cloud-like hair, in varieties of ashen blonde and purple. Their eyes gleamed with psynergy, and their features were slight and almost elvish.

Someone in the myriad city of Anemos was playing a haunting panpipe, and as the high tune floated through the air, Sheba and Shamira closed their eyes, and just listened. The song was mournful, and longing, speaking of the Anemosian's imprisonment, and their desire to be with the land they loved most once again. To see Adepts other than those of Jupiter's elements, and yes, even experience hardship, war, all those things that make life the challenge it is. For all their gratitude to Luna for sheltering them, the longing for Atteka was great.

The last notes of the wind instrument drifted away, and the two Jupiter Adepts slowly opened their eyes to see several Anemosian rapiers pointed at their throats, with a cautious curiosity in the eyes of the Anemosians surrounding them.

"Who are you, and how did you come to Anemos, city of the clan of Jupiter?" The one in the lead said to them, the rapier quivering just beyond Shamira's throat.

The Sentinel smiled coolly. "Have you forgotten me so soon, Stormgard? It's only been a mere thousand years. I think Shamira Skyshroud would have had a more amiably welcome back to her home city."

A gasp raced through the Anemosians around them, and there was a great shout of joy and surprise. Shamira embraced all her old friends and kissed them formally on the cheek, while Sheba stood on the fringes shyly.

"And who is this?" The Anemosian Ariel said, smiling warmly down on the young blonde.

"Sheba, ma'am!" She squeaked.

A collective gasp raced again through the Jupiter Adepts, and at once all eyes turned to the suddenly nervous Jupiter Adept. "What? Is it something I said?"

Ariel quickly recovered. "My lady. I think we should take you to the King of Anemos now, so look presentable."

The Anemosians circled the two confused Adepts and began weaving a complex pattern with their hands. A whirlwind sprung up around the two and lifted them into the air, carrying them effortlessly to the pagoda. Shamira frowned and looked outside the raging winds. "I can fly on my own, you know."

Ariel looked back at her through the screen of wind. "I know, but we cannot allow you to escape. You must be taken to the Anemosian King, where your fates will be decided."

"What?" Shamira said in outrage, and leapt at the barrier, only to be knocked back. "I am the Princess of Anemos! You can't do this!"

Ariel shook her head. "You are Princess no longer, Shamira. There is a new one, your replacement. You cannot abandon us for a thousand years and then come back and expect everything to be normal again, can you? Take it up with the king," she said, and whirled her hands 180 degrees, flinging them harshly through one of the pagoda's windows.

The two Jupiter Adepts, grumbling and groaning, got up and dusted themselves off, looking around the room they had entered. Wide windows on each of the eight sides of the building let in the soft glow of the outside light, and drapery made from the same misty material as the Anemosians robes closed off some of the windows. The floor was made from a glossy stone that reflected the light eerily, and gemstones sparkled in the curved dome of the ceiling. There were no noticeable doors, so the two supposed all Anemosians entered through the windows.

It was only then that they noticed the two people staring at them, their expressions of surprise mirroring Shamira's and Sheba's.

Sheba, presuming them to be the king and queen of Anemos, studied them intently. They were both wearing the same material robes as everyone else, mist-like and flowing, but these ones were dyed a deep hue, a fittingly royal purple. The sleeves of the Queen's robes continued past her hands and billowed lazily in the breeze, while the King's ended halfway down his arm. The hems of both of their robes brushed the floor, and were girded around their waist by a belt of gold. They wore modest crowns, simple silver circlets set with an opal in the front.

The Queen was slender, not quite short, and bore the appearance of a young woman in her late teens. Her green-hazel eyes were wide and teardrop-shaped, and her skin was pale, and though her lips bore no make-up they held a soft pink tinge. Her features were small and her ears bore the distinctive point that most Anemosians had, yet something was not quite _Anemosian _about her essence signature, Shamira found. Her hair was feathery and dusty blonde in colour, edging towards white, and was tied back in a high ponytail.

The King, on the other hand, was tall and burly yet held an air of sophistication. His muscles pressed against the thin robe, and thick blonde hair covered his arms. His hair was layered and medium length, but held the same characteristics as the Queen's: feathery, and dusty blonde. A gold pendant hung around his neck, with the figurine of a soaring bird hanging on his chest. His eyes were larger than normal, and were serious in their lavender colour. His ears showed the elvish point more than his wife's, and a gleaming sword hung at his waist, jewels studded into the hilt.

"Shamira," he breathed in a tenor voice that didn't match with his size. "I thought you long dead…"

Sheba looked up at her companion. "You two know each other? I mean, you were the princess, but for someone to live this long…"

Shamira shook her head. "I don't think so. Your Majesty," she said, anger building in her voice. "I protest my treatment when I returned to Anemos! Thrown in here like some common prisoner! What's your name?"

A smile cracked across the king's features. "Don't recognize me, Shammie?" Her eyes widened at her old nickname that she hated so much, and the king continued, touching his hand to his heart. "I'm hurt that you don't know your own brother," he said, and the smile became somewhat sad.

"Skies, storms, and Jupiter's breath," Shamira said in awe. "Faris… you've grown so much…"

"And you haven't changed in the slightest," King Faris said affectionately, and Shamira ran to him and hugged him tightly.

"Earth be damned," Shamira said unbelievingly. "You're taller than me now…"

"Less swearing, Shammie," Faris scolded amiable. The Queen made a light cough, and the King flinched. "Sorry, dear. This is Queen Alethea, my beautiful wife."

Shamira let go suddenly and back away. "A-alethea?" She said in shock, and looked at the other woman with amazement. "The daughter of Scythia and Calathur?"

"Who are they?" Sheba asked quietly.

"The last of the Luna and Sol Adepts," the Queen responded, in a soft voice like a breeze through the reeds. "And… my parents, yes."

"Sol and Luna Adepts…" Sheba said, dazed.

"So," Shamira said to the Queen, "the armoured figure who abducted you so many centuries ago was an agent of Anemos?"

"Yes," she responded. "I was foreseen to be the next Queen, though we were both only children then. Ours was a marriage arranged by his mother, the late Queen Celia."

"Late?" Shamira said, shocked. "Mother's dead!"

"Yes." A new voice rang from outside. An armoured figure flew in from a nearby window, and Shamira recognized it as the agent of Anemos that abducted Alethea. And from the nervous glance that the Queen gave the newcomer, she knew it, too.

"Ah, Skye," Faris said pleasantly. "Good of you to join us."

"Skye?" Shamira said in a deadpan voice. "You know, I should be surprised and overjoyed here, but somehow nothing shakes me anymore." She turned to Sheba, who had remained silent through the entire conversation. "Sheba, meet Skye, the 'old friend' I told you about earlier."

The Anemosian warrior removed her helmet and shook out her violet hair, grinning. She looked much the same as well, except for a few new and rather nasty-looking scars, but to all intents and purposes she appeared approximately thirty years of age. "Sheba, eh?" She said, shooting a sidelong glance at the Royal Couple beside her. "Pleased to meet you," she said airily, and waved.

Shamira wrung her hand in frustration. "Someone, tell me. How did Mother die?"

Faris looked ruffled. "More important, I think, is how in Jupiter's name did you pass the centuries unchanged, _outside of Anemos_, when everyone thought you were dead?"

"That's…" Shamira said nervously. "That will take a while to explain."

"Then allow me to show you, more or less, how Mother died." The King turned around and walked to one of the windows, pushing aside the drape and tugging out a large jewel, about the size of his fist. It was clear and colourless, and light shone through it and split into a rainbow on the other side.Shamira gasped.

"What is it?" Sheba asked, fascinated by the trinket.

"It's a bloody amplifying crystal! Faris, how the hell did you get one of those!"

He smiled smugly. "Amplifying crystals are found naturally on Luna, which explains why they are so rare on Weyard: only the occasional meteor crashing into the moon would dislodge them."

"They're pretty, sure, but what do they do?" Sheba asked again, feeling a little left in the dark.

"Legend has it they increase the power and range of your Psynergy immensely." Shamira said in awe. "The last recorded amplifying crystal was held by Gazimonus, and apparently fell with him into Mount Aleph."

"Gazimonus?" Sheba inquired curiously.

"The first Lord of Luna, ancestor of Regnoare," Skye explained darkly.

"My ancestor as well, through my mother's side," the Queen spoke up quietly.

_Prepare to Reveal._

The mental message was strong and insistent, vague echoes of it following the words until they faded into silence. It was the voice of Faris, and they looked to see him holding a finger to the amplifying crystal, casting Mind Read. Without opening his eyes, he explained. "I have just sent a message to the entire city. In a few moments, you should see why Mother died."

There was a pause, and then all over Anemos, Reveal fields sprang into existence, accompanied by small flashes. "Amplifying crystals," Faris explained, and the two newcomers to Anemos watched speechlessly as the countless Reveal fields grew, merging with each other until all of Anemos was the hazy black-and-white that one sees in Reveal. More flashes sparked at the rim of the crater, sending beads of light out into the wasteland. Every so often, there was another flash as a bead hit another amplifying crystal in its path, slowly but surely extending the Reveal until it reached the very horizons.

What was revealed was, simply put, true hell.

Gone were the curious 'dandelions' and the dust. Gone were the picturesque peaks framed against the sky, and rolling hills.

The ground was a churning, viscous mass of indigo liquid, erupting in gouts of black-violet and sloshing in 'currents' to form whirlpools, waves, and sometimes crystallizing into grotesque shapes that dissolved a second later.

Razes of crimson flame blasted through the necroneous fluid, creating flares stories high before dying away suddenly. The fire inscribed random patterns in the ooze, shapes that were both beautiful and unnatural.

As Sheba and Shamira watched in morbid fascination, a section of the indigo mass stopped moving and began to swell into a massive bubble, changing in colour to an oily green-yellow. It grew to a mammoth size and then burst, sending the miasmal fluid flooding back into its position and spewing the bubble's contents across a vast area. The greasy green discharge flew straight for Anemos, and the two newcomers couldn't help but yelp as it suddenly splattered against an invisible barrier, and dripped down to the barrier's source from the crater's rim.

"Behold," Faris said softly. "The true face of Luna: the necroslag, as we call it. Sears the soul of life itself, and is poison to Adepts such as we."

"Oh dear Jupiter…" Shamira said, covering her mouth with her hand. A serpent-like monster had emerged from the murk, two fanged mouths side by side at the end of its snake body. Even though it was a great distance away and thus hard to judge accurately, the part exposed alone had to be several hundred feet long. Glowing red eyes lined the sides of its body, and they blinked in random order, gleaming with a dull malice. It raised its body even highly from the slag, protruding a green tentacle from its mouth and 'tasting' the air.

Suddenly, it gave a banshee-like shriek of pain, and even muffled by the barrier the five had to clap their hands to their ears to stifle it. It writhed, and bobbed once, twice, before falling limp and floating, dead in the ooze. As it began to sink beneath the surface, something grabbed it and began hauling it at blinding speed towards the horizon, leaving churning foam in its wake. Apparently, something even larger than itself got to it.

Shamira and Sheba felt twin urges to vomit. There was something about this dark landscape that was innately repulsive to human beings, something so utterly unnatural that it screamed _Luna!_ with every moment, every beat of the vorpal mass, every explosion of dark fire.

"This, this dark hellhole that we have been living in for almost one thousand years," Faris said bitterly. "This is what took mother's life, when she, Jupiter keep her, cast Reveal to investigate an interesting rock formation. We could only watch in horror as she sank into this blasted necroslag with hardly a whisper. We never saw her again."  
"Not sure what happened, we were shocked so see invisible _things_ tear our citizens apart. And when some of us tried to Reveal them, they suffered the same fate."  
"After days of scrambling away from these things, bereft of Reveal, we happened upon this crater you see now. We sheathed the inside of the bowl with materials brought with Anemos, which proved to resist Reveal's effect and remained material. We finally transferred every citizen from the old city, which had become a den of beasts, to this new one. We built the pagoda and planted our plants nearby around the city, where they eventually grew to dot the whole landscape. They, anchored in reality as they were, were not harmed by the spiritual world of reveal. As our population grew, we expanded one by one into other craters, and now our cities dot this accursed world."  
"We found amplifying crystals during our rare forays into the Barrens, and with them we were able to strengthen our defences. This… existence… is why all of us, to a one, wish to return to Weyard, despite having the luxury of long life here: every one hundred years that pass on Weyard, our bodies only experience one. Which is both a blessing… and a curse."  
He turned and looked at Shamira meaningfully. "Which brings us to our next question. How the hell did _you_ manage to live so long?"

Shamira grimaced, and raised her hand to her forehead. A violet aura surrounded her and then faded, save for around her hands, which remained faintly luminous. "Experience it yourself," she said, and brushed the glowing hand against her brother's head.

In a space of a few seconds, Faris learned all that happened after Anemos left Weyard.

Zelexseon, the Ascending Calamity, the traveller between the worlds. The unsteady relationship he forged with the Fivefold, and his heroic sacrifice to try to stop Regnoare once and for all.

The last Lighthouse sealed, and the new Weyard without Alchemy.

The Elemental Djinn, and the sealing of the Stars.

The Valean Council.

The last quest of the mortal Fivefold.

Shamira's mortal encounter with Catastrophe. And the resulting millennium of isolation as Sentinel, the sleepless guardian of the summon.

Shamira separated her hands and placed one hand on Skye's head, and another on Alethea's, bestowing the same information on them.

All three rocked back, their brains reeling to absorb all the images and information given to them. They fell back, gasping for breath, and then as one stood and looked at Shamira.

She spread her arms in supplication. "Now, you know who I really am." Shamira said, making a half bow. "I have come through the world of the summons, through near death and back, and through the Dim Age, to deliver this message: Anemos. Time to return."

Faris gave a half smile. "I've been waiting to hear that for a long time. But… we have one more revelation for you, that concerns our silent newcomer, Sheba." He smiled affectionately, and the small girl smiled back hesitantly. "Truth be told, we of Anemos have not _entirely_ severed our links with Weyard. On the contrary, we have fulfilled a prophecy made long before: that a child of Anemos will one day save the world by unleashing the power that another child of Anemos once sealed. We," Faris said, reaching over and looping an arm around his wife's waist, "did our part to fulfill that. Approximately twenty-five years ago, we had a child, whom we loved very much. And when it came time for that child's destiny, the role that she had to play in the prophecy, to be fulfilled, we parted with her in great sadness, though she was physically only under a year of age."

"Ah, what a noble lineage she has, of which she is more or less unaware of. On her mother's side, Scythia the Fair Luna, brother of Regnoare, and Calathur, hero of Atavia, both royal families. On her father's, the Royal Family of Anemos, and one of the Fivefold herself as her father's sister. What power and mystery flows in her veins!"

It was then that Faris looked her straight in her eyes and said: "Sheba Skyshroud, descended to Weyard as a Child of the Gods, who would mature and someday unleash Alchemy for the world's salvation."

Sheba's eyes kindled with a euphoric joy and surprise. "Then, my origins, the parents I've been searching for all these years…?"

Faris spread his arms. "Welcome home, my daughter."

Sheba, tears flowing down her cheeks, ran forward and embraced her father at last. Hesitantly, Alethea put an arm around her as well, and kissed the top of her head softly. "Sheba…" was all she said, but it said plenty. At last, she was reunited with her parents.

Skye looked on, smiling, as the family embraced each other, heedless of their surroundings. She chanced a glance at Shamira, just in time to see the warrior faint to the ground as a result of this latest revelation. Skye smiled wryly, and reached into her armour to draw out her own amplifying crystal.

_Cities of Anemos across Luna. This is the Sword of Jupiter, Wing-General Skye speaking. I am very pleased to give you the message you've all been wanting to hear:__  
Anemos. Return."_

* * *

Deep within the darkness of Morxez, things were stirring in preparation for war. For the first time in living memory, every will o' wisp was alight, spilling their ghastly blue light over the dark city. Massive forges burned brightly, and burly demons could be heard shouting curses as they hammered away at red-hot metal. Mantrak, the accursed soldiers of old, could be seen milling throughout the city, going about their business with characteristic single-mindedness. Behemoths shuffled slowly through far off barrens near the horizon, hauling tons and tons of materials for the forgers to work on.

Far above it all, the Eternal Necromancer himself stood, robes swishing around his skeletal frame. At his side stood his new protégé, who was outfitted in a similar hooded cloak with a breastplate of navy blue leather clapped over it. His newly-discoloured hair was tied back in a long ponytail, the black streaks melding with the natural blue like some carnival candy cane. The distinctive black markings on his face contrasted harshly against his pale skin, and his eyes held signs of faint irritation as he stood beside his lord.

After being revived by the Necromancer, he had functioned for hours only like a zombie, in a dream-like state. As his soul began to reconnect to his body, though, he was able to regain more and more of his former intelligence and will. However, to his immense disgust, he soon discovered he was bound to this blasted skeleton's every command, thanks to that old Luna word of binding placed on him: EMPTHGADO. Mercury, did he hate that.

The bag of bones didn't seem to mind his mental discord at all, though. Free will is the hallmark of a living being, he said to him once, and went on to say beings able to make their own decisions and judgements were far more useful than the multitude of monsters he already possessed, most of which were merely golems, artificial creatures held up only be his will.

"Well, Alex?" The skeleton said to him, pride in his voice. "What do you think of our army?" That was another odd habit of the black Adept's, Alex thought. He referred to everything as belonging to both himself and Alex, and the Imilian couldn't tell if he was serious or simply mocking him. At any rate, the monster was staring at him with those fireball eyes, waiting for a response.

"It is… wonderful, milord," Alex said, gritting his teeth.

The carcass laughed his grisly laugh. "It would be unstoppable, but for those blasted interfering bastard children, the _Fivefold_," he spat. "They, each already holding massive power own their own, are rallying Weyard against us even as we speak."

"Fivefold?" Alex said, catching the enunciation in his master's tone. "Aren't those the heroes who sealed Alchemy?"

"Yes!" The skeleton hissed. "Because of them, my…" He stopped suddenly, and cursed. Alex, intrigued, opened his mouth, but the skeleton continued, furious. "Alex! I believe it is time we sent our greetings to our friendly neighbours up above," he made a vague gesture above his head. "Alex, choose the courier." He swept his raised hand down at the army, and dropped it.

If there was another habit of his master's that Alex hated, it was his habit of speaking in complex metaphors. Why couldn't he simply say 'Choose something to attack the warriors with?'

Scowling, Alex surveyed the demon horde below him, until a flurry of movement caught his eye. He traced it to one of the abominations, and his stomach did a flop as he studied the monster closely. It was sickening, and seemed to be trying to eat a smaller monster. The Mantrak were keeping the two beasts apart, and punishing the larger monster with whips.

"How about that one?" Alex said, pointing. "It seems to be quite rowdy."

The skeleton bowed at the waist, leaning forward as if the meagre foot gained would help in his inspection. "Yes, yes. Good choice, Alexander."

Alex's face burned, and he scowled. "_Milord_," he said, emphasizing the word just enough to make it not quite an insult. "For all our _loving_ relationship, I still don't have the pleasure of knowing your name."

The bony figure turned his gaze on his subordinate, his 'expression' thoughtful. "You're right. How rude of me! Call me… call me…" he trailed off with a whisper, and for a moment Alex wondered if it was possible for age-old skeletons to become senile. "Call me Demante," he said cheerfully, pronouncing dee – mawn – tay. "Yes, Demante," he said, more to himself this time, and chuckled.

"What's so humorous, _Demante_?" Alex said mockingly.

He coughed and waved a thin hand in front of his face. "Nothing. Send the word to the abomination."

Alex nodded, and opened up a mental conduit to the army. One of the advantages to being the lieutenant was a commanding bond with the demon horde, though listening to the grunts and complaints of the various forces could be trying at times.

He relayed the message to the disfigured creation, and faced the newly named skeleton. "Well, _master_. In the meantime, what shall we do?"

"Wait and see, my dear Alex. Don't worry your pretty little head about it," he said, in a not-so-reassuring way. He pinched the man's cheek affectionately, his halloween fingers smelling faintly of rot and ancient crypts. "Just let Demante take care of anything, and you won't have to worry about fighting those nasty Adepts upstairs," he cooed.

_Mercury,_ Alex thought fervently. _Delivereth me from the hands of my enemies, and get me the hell away from talking skeletons who, in addition to being a physical impossibility, are just as insane as the idea._

_I miss Mia. I miss my freedom. Mercury, when will this end?_


	4. Chapter 4, Festivale

Sorry about the long wait, everyone, but I had the most killer case of writer's block ever towards the end of the summer, and then with school coming, I almost died. TT But I finally present you with Chapter 4 of Pleiades. Enjoy, but first, review responses!

_Waeyon-thunderlord,_  
Hehe, it had –better- be good. You know how much of a headache I earned trying to think of a logical way to have all the normal parts of a moon – phases and days and nights – on something that revolved around a flat earth, with the sun revolving too? Try to figure that one out. Not fun.I suppose I didn't really update 'soon', did I? ;; But thanks for the review!

_Lynn the Pirate Queen,_  
Hey there matey D I had been planning the Sheba/Anemos scene forever, seems like, so it hard better be good. And yes, I love writing Alex. He's so funny. Thanks for the review!

_Saint Jimmy,_  
Thanks, man. I didn't think it was even that funny, but I'm glad you did. It had better be better than Fivefold Star, otherwise that would mean I'm going backwards, wouldn't it? ;;  
And I can assure you, Alex is sorely tempted to kill Demante. Or try to. But anyway, thanks for the review!

_HEY,_  
Scythia, Regnoare's brother? Oy… how could I miss something like that… ;; thanks for letting me know. Also, of course, thanks for the review! Soon. Heh… sheepish

_Zelexseon,_  
Haha, definitely. The Alex/Demante dynamic is so fun for me to write, and I'm going to try to include them more often: just to give our villains a more substantial feel to them. Thanks for the review!

_Golden Sun Smiley,_  
Ha, yeah, I was thinking of the pronunciation thing when I wrote that part, and also because Demante is pronounced pretty far from how it looks phonetically D Thanks for the review!

_Beta the Second,_  
Heh, I didn't really look at it that way, but now that you mention, that's true. Tres creepy indeed. But hey, I'd think it would be pretty neat having an immortal guardian to watch out for you, hm? Thanks for the review!

_readergirl-290,_  
Yeah, I know what you mean. The way I see it, is if it was intention that Sheba fell to Weyard, would they just send any old baby, or would the send someone important and worthy of such a momentous task? Questions, questions.  
Thanks for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as much. D

And with that, responses are tout finis. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and without further ado, here's the next chapter!

Disclaimer: The Golden Sun world and all characters within are copyright of Camelot and Nintendo, etc.

Chapter 4

_Festivale _

"Well, I guess this is goodbye for now…" Shamira said, a little woozy after her faint.

It was a short while later, and the citizens of Anemos were sorting through their possessions, packing for the return trip to Weyard. The five high born Jupiter Adepts stood beside the window, surveying the countryside that was so much more innocent without Reveal. "You will be okay on your own, won't you?" she asked, looking from her brother to Skye.

Faris snorted. "Of course we will. We've done just fine before without your exalted presence, my dear Shamira," he said sarcastically. Then his gaze softened. "Do take care, though, of yourself and little Sheba."

Hearing the pet name, Sheba's temper flared. "I am _not_ Little Sheba!"

Faris grinned. "Sorry. It's just the last time I saw you, you were just a little one," he said wistfully, and then grinned again. "Just to make sure… are you positive you won't be coming with us?"

"Yes," Shamira replied. "You can make yourself at home at Contigo without us… we have work to do."

"You can talk to Master Hama," Sheba added. "She's a Jupiter Adept, and a descendant of Yegelos." She frowned. "Or so she says. But if you're all up here, how is that possible? Is she from Anemos as well?"

Faris and Skye exchanged looks. "Actually… a good deal of our population didn't want to remain on Luna. Even some of the Royal Family was of this opinion… mostly cousins and such. Well, they went back to Weyard on their own. It's quite possible that this Hama is one of their descendants," Faris said, a tad sheepishly.

Then Ivan, too… Sheba mused.

"So," Skye said, changing the subject. "The distance between Luna and Weyard is too great to simply Teleport at whim, without something to increase the range and power of the spell. No, not an amplifying crystal," she laughed, seeing Shamira's hungry glance. "We will all be journeying to the Teleport pad in Old Anemos… you'll be coming too, of course."

Shamira smiled. "I'd love to. Sheba, are you ready to leave?" she asked the smaller Adept.

She knows we don't have anything to bring, Sheba thought, so she must be asking if I'm ready to part with my homeland yet. "I don't think so. Is it okay if, before we leave, I travel around Anemos and see the sights, talk to everyone?"

Faris nodded. "Of course, if it's okay with your mother." He looked over at Alethea, who smiled and nodded.

Sheba felt a glow of happiness at that. It was so novel, hearing the words mother and father in relation to her! It was her lifelong dream come true…

"Some of the citizens can only speak Anemosian, so you may have to communicate mentally sometimes," Skye added. "And… it's hard to get around with flying, isn't it?" She asked with a meaningful glance at Shamira.

"Um, what?" Skye coughed, pantomimed wings flapping with her hands, and Shamira got it. "Ohhh… yes."

The two warriors stood on each side of Sheba, and they each grabbed one of her hands. The petite blonde wore an expression of confusion and curiosity as the two began to glow with a violet aura. A trail of sparkles flowed from the two Anemosians into her body, and Sheba felt the unique sensation of learning new Psynergy, as if one's mind is being opened.

Skye smiled. "There. You should know Volatilis now. Try it out; but don't get lost!"

With a euphoric and slightly silly grin, Sheba cast the Psynergy spell and gasped as the wings appeared on her back. They were a ghostly tinge of lavender, laced with peculiar streaks of emerald. She flapped them experimentally, and then jumped out the window with a cry of joy, and took off into the city.

The others simply smiled.

* * *

Maris and Kraden sat facing each other, a map of Weyard and a piece of Suhallan papyrus between them. A pot of ink served as a weight to stop the paper from blowing away, and Maris tucked the quill behind her ear as the two Adepts reviewed. Kraden was utilizing his scholarly memory to remember all the capable Adepts they had encountered on their quest, to the end of creating a reasonable path for each group of psynergists to take. Aleos, Orior, and Cinaed were off to the side a bit, discussing quietly amongst themselves, while the Adepts from this age returned to their homes to gather their equipment and say goodbye to their families, or in some cases write letters to those who didn't live in Vale. 

The Imilian lifted up the scroll and studied it closely, reading over the names that were written in her neat and flowing script:

_Jupiter: Feizhi at Xian, Hama at Lama Temple (Contigo?), and Master Maha at Garoh.  
Mercury: Lumerians, Hydros!  
Venus: Susa, Kushinada, and Uzume.  
Mars: Proxians.  
Unknown alignment: Lunpa._

Maris nodded and handed it to Kraden. "Looks simple enough," she said. "The Jupiter, Mercury, and Venus groups could travel together to the east, drop by Xian, cross the mountain chain over to the Champa port, and from there Jupiter would split off to go to Garoh and then Contigo. Mercury and Venus can travel together until it comes time to split and go to Lumeria and Izumo, respectively. Mars can travel with them for a short while, until it comes time to split off and go to Imil, where they can travel along the Spine of Angara to Prox. You, Master Kraden, will have to split immediately and go to Kalay, then Tolbi."

She took a breath, and picked up the map of Weyard. "But my, the world sure has changed a lot since back in the day…"

Kraden looked at her wondering face curiously. "Are you referring to the Golden Age?" He nodded to himself, and answered his own question. "You must be, for the only time the world was considerably different was then. Except for the Great Flood, maybe."

Maris nodded hesitantly. "Yes, the Golden Age. So, do you like our little planning so far?"

Kraden looked from their list, to the map, and back again. "I believe it will do fine," he reassured her. He heard crunching footsteps approaching from behind, and turned around to the smiling face of Piers, who held a pack straining at the stitches. "Back already, Piers?"

"Yes," the Lumerian replied calmly. "Since I am going to my homeland, I have no need to write a letter or say goodbye to anyone. I simply had to gather my equipment," to prove his point, he upended the pack and dumped out all his stuff:

There was a Mythril Blade, glimmering in the light, paired beside a shining Masamune; a Crown of Glory, the studded gem glowing with an inner lustre; a pair of Riot Gloves; a shining Mythril Shirt; a pair of green Hyper Boots and a Running Shirt.

He looked with faint distaste at the scattering of artefacts. "I know these are all necessary, but I look ridiculous with everything equipped."

Maris' eyes widened as she looked over the rare items, one in particular catching her eye. She rolled onto her knees and was reaching for it when she remembered her manners. "May I see this, Piers?" She asked politely, indicating the item.

The Lumerian couldn't help but give an amused smile. "Certainly, Maris."

"Thank you," she replied, and wrapped her hand around the katana's hilt. There was no mistaking that flawless curve, and though it had plainly seen better days, Maris could remember the many times she had seen its phosphorescent trail slice the sky.

"Aleos!" She called, holding the Masamune aloft. "Remember this?"

To say an expression of surprise crossed the Wise One's face would be an understatement. He was shocked, immediately breaking off from his conversation and running over, taking the razor-sharp blade reverently from Maris' hands. "Piers, where did you find this…?" he breathed, his eyes glowing from the mirror-like blade.

Piers looked at it, surprised. "We found it in the small town of Yallam, in a treasure chest. We asked Sunshine about it, and he said Yepp found it in the shallows on one of his diving trips around the Sea of Time."

"Just where we were parted…" he said in a whisper, and gave a scolding chuckle. "It was there the whole time, for a thousand years."

"Is there something special about this blade?" Piers asked, curious.

Aleos stood, and flicked a thumb against the edge of the blade, was satisfied to see it slice his skin, and as he cast a minor healing spell to seal the wound, he nodded. "Yes. This is the Masamune, the sword once wielded by Argyros the Great, founder of Vale and my ancestor. It was torn from me during a.. certain battle, and I never imagined I'd see it again."

"Then it rightfully belongs to you," Piers said, surprised, and then a serious expression formed on his face. "Go on, keep it."

Aleos glanced up at the Mercury Adept with a look of contempt. "I intended to."

"Aleos!" Maris gasped. She smacked him upside the head. "Show some proper manners! Or have you been 'the Wise One' for too long and forgotten yourself?" She hissed into his ear, so only he heard.

"… You are right," Aleos said, averting his eyes. "I apologize."

Maris folded her arms. "Don't apologize to me, apologize to Piers!"

Aleos nodded and faced the Lumerian. "I am sorry, Piers. May I take this sword?" He asked formally.

"You don't have to apologize, it is your weapon." Piers said firmly. "Besides, I never liked using a katana. The Mythril Blade suits me more, anyway."

"Hmm," Aleos said, and prodded the weapon. He frowned. "The spirit's gone… but yet there's still an unleash?" He asked the male Mercury Adept.

"Yes, Rising Dragon," was the response.

"Rising Dragon," the silver-haired man mused. "Maybe it was corrupted by the water, losing its unalignment and thus its true power… yes, it's possible. Maris," he said, turning to her.

"Yes?" She replied cheerily.

"Does Leviathan still inhabit your weapon?"

She frowned. "I haven't checked," she withdrew the crescent-tipped staff from its sash on her side and shook it, blinking at the serpentine decoration expectantly. "No response, but he was always unreliable like this. I'll let you know if he shows up."

Kraden was bursting with excitement at what these people passed for chitchat: talk of legends and heroes as if these were everyday things. He adjusted his glasses and picked up a charcoal pencil and a piece of paper, ready to take notes.

"Hello again," a voice greeted them peacefully. This time, they turned to see Mia walking towards them, wearing a sunny smile. Despite carrying a carefully folded package of items, the Mercury Adept still managed her customary dignified walk, and sat calmly between Kraden and Piers. She noticed Piers' equipment spread across the grass and opened her own pack as well, displaying an immaculate Clothos' Distaff, a faintly humming Psychic Circlet, a folded Iris Robe, a winged pair of Quick Boots, a Unicorn Ring, a Healing Ring, and a pair of Riot Gloves – for physical work, Mia explained.

"Mia, hello," Piers said pleasantly. "Will the others be along shortly?"

"I don't know, but I passed Ivan on the way here," she smiled. "I think he has a letter for you to deliver."

"That's right," the Jupiter Adept's slowly maturing voice said from behind them, its high pitch balanced by the ease and smoothness with which he spoke. He gently placed his pack of belongings beside Kraden, and withdrew a thick envelope. "I need to deliver a letter to Hammet in Kalay," he said aloud, and retrieved another letter. "As well as one to Hama, to let her know we're coming."

Maris smiled. "That's sweet. Umm…" she reached for the map again. "Aleos and Kraden will be travelling by Kalay. They can take the letters and group off Hama's to the Tolbi Post."

Ivan nodded, and handed the envelopes to Kraden. "Kraden, could you?"

The scholar beamed. "Certainly, Ivan." He took the letters as if they were worth a thousand pieces of gold and stowed them carefully in one of the many pouches of his cloak.

"So," Piers began conversationally. "What are you bringing on our journey, Ivan?"

"Only my favourites," he said slyly, and opened the pack. He drew out the phantasmal Swift Sword, a blade that could not be seen when swung; another Psychic Circlet to match Mia's; a Mythril Armlet; an Aeolian Cassock; Hyper Boots and a Spirit Ring.

As he and Piers began to discuss the advantages and disadvantages of each piece of equipment –through the innate Psynergy available to all Adepts that allows them to view the attributes of a weapon – Ivan suddenly remembered something and broke off. "Oh yes, I neglected to mention. The Valeans heard from Jenna and Cara about our journey, and are organizing a farewell banquet for us tonight. We're expected to attend."

Cinaed's Proxian ears pricked, and he turned away from his conversation with Orior. "You don't say? All of us?"

Maris rolled her eyes. "You just want the food, Cinaed." Her stomach growled, and he smiled sheepishly at the wide grin that appeared on the Mercury Adept's face. "Although, it _has_ been a while since I had some Valean cooking. Umm… we can attend, right Ivan? I mean, technically speaking, we're outsiders." Aleos coughed. "Oh, except for you, Aleos."

"You are from Vale, Aleos?" Kraden asked, his eyes bright. Aleos glared but nodded, and the old scholar set his pencil to the paper and scribbled something. "Thank you."

Ignoring Kraden's interruption, Ivan answered Maris' question. "Yes. In fact, the Valean elders expressed their interest in having you attend specifically. They want to know a bit about you, and more about this quest we are undertaking."

Aleos let out a low growl. "Elders never change. They could never simply accept the fact that they couldn't know everything…"

Mia smiled. "But you will come, won't you?"

Maris clapped her hands excitedly. "We _all_ will! See you later!"

Mia, Ivan, and Piers began to pack up their items again, and Aleos, Maris, Orior, and Cinaed nodded to each other, and left for the inn to get ready.

"The banquet is in the courtyard this evening! See you there!" Ivan called out, and they parted ways.

* * *

An outsider visiting Vale before and after the unleashing of Alchemy would have been completely bewildered by the total change. In the last stages of the Dim Age, Vale was a sleepy, watchful town, hostile to outsiders and ignorant of the real world. 

In the new age, Vale was completely different. She opened her arms to travellers far out of her way, renewed old contracts with her neighbouring cities as far as Kalay and Imil, and flew into a frenzy of reconstruction and happiness. After Kraden and the eight returning heroes carefully laid out their evidence that lighting the Lighthouses was the right thing to do, and that the teachings of Vale were to prevent one man from gaining Alchemy and not protection against Alchemy itself, the elders grudgingly accepted it and allowed the warriors to dwell in Vale, with however great reluctance.

It didn't take long for the charisma of the eight Adepts to win over the heart and mind of the Valean people, and that four of their own citizens were a part of the group reassured them further. The smiles, confidence, and strength the eight gave off comforted any misgivings they might have had, and soon they all settled in like nothing had ever been between them in the first place.

Parties and grand events were the norm now in Valeriam, being held almost weekly. The citizens seemed delighted to take every opportunity to party, celebrating their steadily strengthening Psynergy in the Alchemic age, the complete reconstruction of another building, or even a particularly beautiful day.

And so it came as no surprise that when a rumour began circulating around Vale that group of people appeared to whisk their heroes off on another adventure, the people of Vale immediately sprang to work, organizing a private banquet for friends and family of the heroes, and then afterwards a party: full of dancing and fireworks and lots of drinking, all the things Valeans loved the most. Afterwards, everybody would go to sleep at an ungodly early hour, only to wake up early to see them off. Thus within is held the entirety of the new Valean tradition: dancing, drinking, and adventuring.

The preparations for this banquet were being made. The courtyard, a pristine field with a moat-encircled Psynergy stone in the middle, was cleared of all debris and cleaned immaculately. Streamers were tied between the trees on the edges and the Psynergy stone in the middle, creating a look that said 'carnivale'. The grass was newly cut and the stones swept, making it ideal for dancing. A cluster of Valeans stood in the shadow of the weaponshop, holding various kinds of musical instruments and practicing, tuning them until they were at the perfect tone.

The cliff overlooking this area was likewise being dressed up, being washed down by Mercury Adepts until it shone like a white beacon. On the grassy summit, an enormous table courtesy of the Jerra household was slowly being wheeled out and set up, with chairs of varying sizes being placed around it. It was a truly massive table, fitting to accommodate the equally large invite list to the private dinner.

Invited were the Great Healer; Isaac, Dora, and Kyle; Felix, Jenna, Olive and Frank; Cara, her sister Krile and her father Gareth. The new Mayor, Keith, his wife Janice, his parents Murphy – the former Mayor of Vale, who retired shortly after the heroes returned, citing that the new age was not for him - and Ethel, and the Mayor's children, Kay, Garet, and Aaron.

Aside from the modern Valeans, there was Ivan, Sheba, Piers, Mia, Kraden, and the mysterious strangers that arrived at Vale: Aleos, Maris, Cinaed, and Orior. Though Kraden knew that Aleos was the Wise One, the Void Adept strictly instructed him not to breathe a word of it, to avoid complications.

The group of Adepts filed slowly in from all sides of Vale, continuing the own conversations, which gently died down to a respectful murmur as everyone took their seats. As the Mayor seated himself, Aleos sauntered up and whispered a few words in his ear. The Mars Adept nodded and shouted to bring another chair, a command that was quickly answered as a passing Valean nodded and walked away, to return a short while later with chair. At the silver-haired man's gesture, he set it between the designated chairs of Ivan and Sheba.

Aleos returned to his seat, and as the last Adept sat the Mayor stood. "I have been informed," he began in his deep, authoritative voice. "That two of our guests will not be able to arrive on time, but they _will_ be joining us later, so we are to proceed without them," a glance of confirmation to the side, and a discreet nod from a certain warrior confirmed his statement.

"So, for the reason we're here…" he paused, and gestured to the Adepts seated at the table. "Is to see our heroes off, on another adventure. Though I'm not so sure about letting Garet go again," he said, and took a breath. "I'm confident they will do the right thing. So let's do what's expected of us and give them a grand send off!" He finished, and pumped his mug of ale into the air, the foamy liquid sloshing over the sides. He sat down to cheers from the others, breathing a little heavily, being unused to making such speeches.

His head bowed slightly under the weight of his crown, the Great Healer rose next, and immediately a hush fell over the assembled. He clasped his hands in front of his robes, and slowly around the table everyone followed suit, the Valeans more readily then the others, being accustomed to this tradition.

"We are gathered here today," the venerable old man murmured, "to see off a group of heroes, who were willing to go against the will of the Wise One and fire the Elemental Lighthouses. However, in the long run, we cannot know if the actions they made were right, or just. In the future, wars may be waged over this, and our descendants may curse our decision to lift the darkness that covered our land." The eight heroes exchanged glances at this, and Cara frowned disapprovingly. "On the other hand, they did what they could. We can only hope that in their new journey, the Wise One will forgive them and watch over them, keeping them safe on behalf of the Elemental Gods."

More than you know, Great Healer, Aleos thought silently.

"Now, as we partake in this farewell meal, let our patron gods, goddesses, and the Spirits bless this event, and wish good fortune on those in danger." He raised his head to the sky with some effort, and then seated himself.

There was a moment of silence, pierced by a ringing shout. "Now, let's eat!" Garet broke into a broad grin, and began heaping his plate. Jenna rolled her eyes, and would have elbowed him if he were within reach. Instead, she contended herself with simply applying restraint and placing food on her plate as delicately as she could.

With the solemn mood broken, the festive atmosphere soon returned, with chatter and laughter filling the air, accompanied by the clinking of glasses and silverware. Various conversations soon formed around the table, some more exuberant than others.

"I tell you, Felix! I simply cannot _wait _to visit Tolbi on my own leisure! It will be so nice to see everybody without Saturos breathing down my neck, and there was a few projects I left unfinished when I came to Vale…"

"… Cara, is there any cute boys you have your eye on around her in Vale? 'Cause I'm sure there are plenty of single guys you'll meet on your journey who'll be interested in you! You're really pretty!" Maris beamed, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"T-thanks, I think." Cara squirmed, uncomfortable.

"What do you think, Krile?" Maris asked, wearing a devious smile. "Should your sister find a boyfriend?"

"Yeah!" The little girl piped up. She was a miniature of Cara in almost every way, except for her maturity and the bow she wore in her hair. At thirteen, she was a cheery girl just starting to discover what it meant to be a teenager. "That would be so romantic!" She said, miming a swoon. "He would be tall and dreamy and…"

"…asking for some cookies again yesterday. By Cybele, they're all like bottomless pits."

Ivan nodded, rolling his eyes. "I know how that is. My Jupiter Djinn are all the same way. You know, you should really consider…"

"…you tried this chicken yet?" Jenna said, reaching for another slice of white breast meat.

Mia blinked. "No, I haven't. Should I?"

"Yes, you definitely should!" Jenna answered enthusiastically. "It's great! Dora really outdid herself this time."

There was a cough somewhere to her right, and she turned to see Kay looking at her pointedly. "_You_ made this, Kay? I'm really impressed! Last time I had your cooking I almost had to go see the Great Healer, it made me so sick!" She smiled sunnily before turning to talk to Mia, ignoring the indignant shout from down the table. "Say, Mia…"

"… you and Mia?" Piers snorted, cutting through his steak. "You two are as oblivious as a turtle in the Great Apojii stream when you're together."

Isaac swished his fork dismissively, before spearing a green bean with it. "No, I'm not saying to that extent. I was just wondering if you've considered finding a girlfriend yet?"

"I know who he likes!" Garet boomed from across the table, sending the chatter into silence as everyone dropped their silverware and watched with interest. He lifted his fork and pointed it haphazardly around the table at the girls, provoking a small squeak from a couple. "Piers is madly in love with… Dora!" He yelled, pointing the utensil triumphantly at the shocked and highly annoyed woman. His cry was cut short as twin clods of dirt burst across his face, the yellow auras fading from Isaac and Kyle as they lowered their hands, satisfied looks on their faces.

"So, Piers," Isaac resumed, grinning. "Who is it, really?"

Piers bent down over his plate, sprinkling some Koliman herbs over his potatoes. "I cannot tell you, just yet."

"I think I know who it is…" Isaac smirked.

"It's Sheba!" A sudden cry rang out, and Ivan leapt to his feet, pointing to the sky.

"Took them long enough." Aleos muttered, and stabbed at his beef with a vengeance. Beside him, Orior rolled his eyes.

"One would think you would have some patience by now, Aleos," the Lilyveran said quietly, reaching for an ear of corn. "This is a momentous occasion for the both of them. They should have taken as long as they need."

By this point, all eyes were on the two figures descending from the sky, or more accurately, on the two sets glimmering wings emerging from their backs.

They descended more or less gracefully into the two chairs assigned to them, between Aleos and the Great Healer. Their wings faded, the violet and smoky lilac of Shamira's wings and the lavender and emerald of Sheba's whisping away back to the wind.

Immediately, her concerned friends mobbed Sheba. Jenna pushed up front and stood speechless for a moment, gesturing wildly with her hands. Sheba watched with amusement as Jenna tried to deal with her conflicting emotions, but eventually the fiery Mars Adept came under control, and unleashed a torrent on the younger Adept.

"Where were you, Sheba! I thought you were just out for a walk! Then you make this dramatic entrance of descending from the sky on the most beautiful pair of wings – Mars, the _only _pair of wings – I have ever seen on a human!"

Sheba simply smiled, her eyes glowing. "I know my origins now," she said quietly, and only Jenna and Shamira were close enough to hear her.

Jenna realized the mood that the Jupiter Adept was in, and grew serious. "That's fantastic, Sheba," she said softly, and hugged her friend tightly. "You can tell me all about it later," she whispered. "But right now there's a feast to attend to." She stood back, smiling proudly.

_Nice to see you again, Sheba, _Ivan's voice said in her mind, and she turned to her fellow Jupiter Adept, who was smiling shyly.

_And you, Ivan,_ she returned.

The Great Healer was staring at her, a queer expression on his face. While the others were busy celebrating with the newly discovered Anemosian, he was having some thoughts of his own.

_So… this is what Alchemy grants. Humans with wings… not what the Gods intended for mankind, not at all._

_Is unleashing this… Alchemy… really the right thing for us to have done? I had heard tales of the powers possessed by our ancestors, but I never really believed half the stories they wrote, of people who could produce gemstones by the hundreds, manipulate the weather to their will, and fly through the air. If one of these is true, are all of them? How much longer will it be before we have more power over Weyard than is good and well for us to have?_

"Great Healer?" A voice suddenly broke into his thoughts, and Vale's elder noticed the Mayor leaning forward, a frown on his face as he investigated the Great Healer's pensive expression.

"Oh. I apologize, Mayor, my mind was somewhere else. Pardon me?"

"Oh, it's nothing. You looked distracted for a while, and I thought something was wrong." He gave a wide smile, and eyed the roast chicken before him hungrily. "Some feast we put together, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," he responded, with a notable lack of enthusiasm. He stared down at his plate full of food glumly, and poked at it with his fork.

Meanwhile, Sheba was being pestered for a full account of where she went and what happened to her. Laughing, she held up her hands. "Everyone, okay! I'll fill you in later, okay? Right now, I'm really hungry," she eyed the food before her like a vulture.

Ivan smiled. "Try the corn, Sheba, it's pretty good." To prove his point, he asked Mia to pass him a plate of the vegetable, and he nimbly drew a cob of corn off the plate and set to it, hiding a grin.

Sheba giggled and rolled her eyes. "Yes, let's all break our teeth. Shamira, what would you recommend?" She asked, turning to the violet-haired woman beside her.

Shamira smiled, wondering at how quickly Little Sheba had come to trust her. Well… maybe she shouldn't be calling asking which food is best to be trusting, but all the same she was a lot more at ease.

She glanced condescending down at the blonde, and smirked. "Do you need Mommy to feed you?"

A grimace crossed Sheba's face. "Jupiter, why do you have to be so arrogant? I was just trying to be nice." She turned away, and reached for a pitcher of apple juice. It was just out of her reach, and try as she might, she could only brush the handle.

Without a word, Shamira extended her arm and nudged the decanter into her grasp. Sheba looked up at her in confusion. "Why did you..?"

Shamira shushed her, her eyes suddenly soft. "Don't worry about it, Little Sheba. I might be a bitch sometimes, but honestly I care," Sheba was a bit skeptical, but accepted the help and poured her glass of apple juice anyway. Shamira leaned forward, resting her forehead on the side of Sheba's head. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't give away my true nature. Not just yet." She whispered.

Sheba scowled. "Get your head off mine, Shammie." The Sentinel rocked back as if burned, and glared. "And 'don't worry about it'. Your secret's safe with me," she mimed locking her mind and throwing away the key, but she wore a very insincere smile.

"As long as we're clear on that," Shamira said with a exasperated sigh, leaning back.

"Naturally," Sheba said nonchalantly, taking a sip of her juice.

The banquet lasted for a good deal longer, the conversations extending far after the food was consumed. The Fivefold became acquainted with the Valeans, and were more or less accepted as suitable guides for their children and friends on the new adventure. "You all give off a good impression, at least," Dora had said warmly. She had recovered from her illness shortly after Isaac and Kyle returned home, and Kyle would say fondly she was simply ill of a lonely heart.

Eventually, the Mayor stood and rapped his knuckles on the table to get their attention. The talk died away as eyes turned to him, and he cleared his throat. "Now that we've all eaten our fill… we'll take a short break of a few hours until the final preparations for this evenings dance and music are finished." He reached along the table for his mug of apple cider, and lifted it into the air. "So, friends, for one last toast. To preparation, to adventures, and the spirit of youth," so saying, he downed his cider in one gulp. The sound of everyone downing their drinks was echoed around the table, some – the menfolk most notably – finishing before the women.

"And now, everyone," Keith said, smiling. "I will see you at the festival!" Conversation resumed as everyone pushed back their chairs, smiling. With general cries of 'See you at the festival!', everyone went their own direction, to dress up for the dancing and to finish packing for the journey.

* * *

_Where art thou, my shadow? _

Alex was angry, and frustrated beyond belief. It was bad enough living in an open cavern with thousands upon thousands of putrid monsters and serving a satirical and most likely insane skeleton, but this was the last straw. He marched determinedly towards the medieval platform from which Demante observed the goings on of his army.

The tower was a rather gothic affair, a simple black structure with no decorations whatsoever, but planted strategically in the middle of Morxez to compensate. It was a black stone façade with the seams between the stones were clearly visible, and the interior staircase led out to what was no more than a stone roof to oversee the soldiers. A fancy architect, Demante was not.

Alex walked up the stairs, working on keeping his temperament. It would do no good to erupt at the necromancer, who would be more likely to laugh in his face than be intimidated. Nonetheless, he couldn't restrain himself from throwing open the trapdoor that led to the top, and stalked towards the skeleton, who's back was turned to him.

"Demante, I have had enough of your Mantraks' antics of insubordination and disrespect. If you don't do something to restrain your men, I might have to mete out punishment myself." The air temperature dropped a few degrees as punctuation to his point, and he glared frostily at his master.

For a moment there was no sound, only a faint scratching that barely reached Alex's ears. Demante made no notice of the Imilian, whether from ignorance or intention he didn't know, but he strongly suspected the latter. Alex's anger cooled, and curiosity grew within him. "What are you occupied so studiously with, _master_," Alex snapped, colouring the title with sarcasm. He leaned over the skeleton's shoulder: no easy task, as the necromancer was over seven feet tall. He rolled his eyes. "My, you do have a penchant for the morbid, don't you?"

Demante turned and grinned toothily at him. A piece of monster skin was stretched between his hands – at least, Alex hoped it was monster – and brown letters burned on the parchment, leaving off where its writer's attention was distracted. With nothing to say, Demante dipped the index of his bony finger into a pot of what appeared to be bubbling blood, perched precariously on the ledge. He put the tip of his finger to the skin, and finished his sentence with a flourish, and after a moment's thought made a quick smiley face at the end. He gave a satisfied huff, rolled up the sheet into a scroll, sealed it with a burst of fire to the lip – melting the flesh together, and handed it to Alex.

"Find someone to deliver this to the Overworld," he instructed. "And your troubles are noted."

Alex clenched his fists and snapped up the paper. Apparently, he wasn't worth listening to, and his happiness was unimportant when compared to a silly letter. From almost-lord of the world to running errands for a secluded old hermit, he thought bitterly, and stalked back through the tower in a bad mood, thrusting the scroll with a few hurried words into the hands of the first Mantrak he saw: one of his own unit, coincidentally enough.

His pageboy duty completed, Alex headed to his chambers and told his Mantraki guards that no one was to disturb him. They took the orders with a smirk and a bow of acceptance, opening the doors and let him in before crossing their crystal halberds over the entrance.

If there was one thing Alex liked about serving Demante - aside from it was an easy way to attain revenge on that bastard rock - it was his chambers. The walls were hung with blue silk over the cold stone walls, synthetically created from the saliva of a type of Abomination, one that spat the material. He had a bed of the softest material, and countless pillows. It even had a sky-blue canopy with transparent curtains designed with flowers. Alex was well aware that the feminine style of the room was no accident: Demante was making a subtle jab at him, trying to provoke him – Mercury knows why.

Alex quite forgave him, though, for the private hot spring installed in the next room. Magma brought up from below heated his personal subterranean lake, which had a long stone shelf for sitting back and relaxing in the steaming water.

After a long day of preparing the army and slaving in the unnatural heat of Morxez, as Luna rose above on Weyard he was ready to turn in for the day. He stripped off his sweaty clothes and sank gratefully into the water, submerging himself completely and allowing the dirt to be washed from his body. He opened his ice blue eyes in the clear water and noted to his amusement his hair was floating freely around his head, moving with the subtle currents like tentacles.

He rose from the water until it lapped against his waist, resting against a curved rock. He pushed back his plastered hair from his face, gave a contended sigh, and closed his eyes. For everything Fate had thrown at him thus far, small moments like these made it all worthwhile, being an evil lord.

He gave a sigh, of a different note. Alas, duty is never far, he thought, and sent out a mental link to the messenger, overseeing his work to make sure nothing was wrong. It can't hurt to be cautious, after all.

* * *

_Meanwhile… _

Jenna smirked as Felix came down of his tent, tugging uncomfortably at a formal Valean suit: an old military outfit of green and gold, buttoned across the left side in standard officer fashion. The cuffs were a light beige and the hem of it was stringed tightly against his hips, and his pants were a pale brown edging towards white, stiff with disuse. He wore smart-looking black boots, shined to a mirror-like surface, and his normally wild hair was heavily combed and slicked back in a ponytail.

The collar was folded tightly against his throat, and Jenna could practically see Felix's face turning blue as he struggled to breathe normally. She laughed at him, then walked over and undid the top button of the suit. The collar flopped open, and Felix took a deep breath. He smiled at her, then tried to look at the collar and frowned. "Jenna, it looks stupid this way."

She rolled her eyes. "It looks stupid, anyway. Just… throw your cloak over it. Somehow, you look weird without your faithful rug around your neck."

Felix growled, but marched back to his tent anyway. "Brown or blue?" He called out.

"Blue!" She returned. "Adds more colour."

Felix emerged once more, tying the sky-blue material around his neck with the efficiency of practice. He peered at the cloth spread out on the grass. "What are you bringing on the journey?"

"My favourite equipment," she said, gazing at the various items adoringly. Laid out on a brown blanket was a pair of Big Bang Gloves, Fur Boots, an Atropos' Rod and a Burning Sword, a Psychic Circlet, and an Ardagh Robe.

Felix held up a finger. "Wait one moment." He turned and pulled back the tent flap. After a few moments of shuffling around, he returned, a bulging pack in his hands. "I already chose my equipment," he said in a grim voice.

Jenna was puzzled at the tone, until he opened the pack and drew out the items, then understood. She could feel the darkness pulsing off them: Darksword, Fear Helm, Terror Shield, and Stealth Armour. Accompanying the dark items and sticking out conspicuously was a pair of Hyper Boots, Riot Gloves, and a charming Cleric's Ring.

She picked up the Fear Helm, and stared at the empty eyeslits and horns for a while, before putting it down with a slight shiver. "I don't see why you like these ones. They feel… evil."

Felix reached down and toyed with the Cleric's Ring thoughtfully before answering. "They just feel… _right_ to me. Whether it's because I thought of myself as the villain for so long, or I'm unconsciously punishing myself for failing to save my Proxian friends, I don't know."

Jenna just looked at him strangely. "You're weird, Felix. Anyway," she said, suddenly bouncy. "I'm going to go pick out my dress. Be right back!"

Felix grimaced and waved her on. He stared at what used to be so many pieces of Dark Matter. He ran his hand across the polished surface of the Terror Shield, the strange metal ice-cold despite the hot summer season.

His reverie was broken by the dull _flumph_ of a canvas flap, and he looked up to see Jenna, holding a dress in each hand. She gave an apologetic grin, and raised the two outfits. "Which do you think would look better, Felix? Brown," she said, moving the dusty brown-coloured dress in front of her, "or red?" She moved the brown one aside and replaced it with a burgundy one.

"The brown one," Felix said, eyeing the higher neckline.

Jenna saw his expression and broke into a wide grin. "The red one it is." With a laugh, she dashed back up in her tent to change, leaving Felix fighting the urge to facepalm.

A good forty minutes later, Jenna exited, walking uncertainly on a pair of high heel shoes. Felix rolled his eyes: it was typical of his sister to show off, even she wasn't used to it.

However, once she stood still, Felix had a chance to take a good look at her. Her ponytail was clipped into a loop, the base of her ponytail fastened to halfway along its length by a red barrette. Her eyes were shining, and a nervous smile graced her expression. Her lips were slightly glossed over with a mix of pearl essence and wax, and a hint of safflower was crushed and rubbed onto her cheeks for a bit of rouge.

The dress, Felix had to admit, was rather nice: and custom tailored, like everything else. It was sleeveless, but with small triangles of material coming off the dress to cover her shoulders. It was open-backed, with a broad strip of material across the top that served to hold it together. A small v shape cut about four inches down her front, and the skirt hem ended just below her knees. A cream-coloured length of silk, about an inch across, was bound across her waist and tied on the side into a ribbon. Her legs were bare, and her feet were tucked into the aforementioned shoes: soft pink socks went up to her ankles, to prevent her feet from getting cold in whatever chill the summer night might hold. Which brought the obvious question to Felix's mind that, if she was concerned about being cold, why choose the red dress over the brown one.

The answer came to him just as easily: to get on his nerves. Nonetheless, he had to admit to himself she looked okay.

"So," Jenna said, doing a little twirl on her toes and nearly succeeding in tripping herself. She regained her balance, blushing a bit. "What do you think?"

Felix grunted noncommittally in response. "It's fine."

Jenna growled, stomped over, and grabbed him by the collar of his cloak. She put her face inches from his, and said in an all-too-nice voice: "Felix, I just spent the last forty Mars-damned minutes preparing this outfit and getting ready, so you had better give me a well thought-out opinion, or someone's getting Dragon Fumed in this field. And it's not me."

Felix rolled his eyes, not at all intimidated. Nonetheless, he gave an answer. "I think it looks fine. You might be flaunting a bit too much," he said, with a pointed glance, "but the colour scheme is nice. The wine colour and beige compliment each other." His eyes flicked towards her hair. "I like what you've done with your hair, too," he pulled back a bit, and looked her full in the eyes. "So listen to me, Jenna: it looks fine."

Jenna let go of his collar and laughed. "Really, Felix, I was only joking. I never knew you could give such insights on fashion."

He rolled his eyes again, and punched her playfully on the arm. "But I had better not catch anyone staring down your shirt, you hear?" He said in a mock-threatening tone, but he was totally serious.

Jenna grinned. "Of course. I need my big brother to protect me from the nasty lechers, after all."

"Even if it's Garet?" Felix teased.

Jenna coloured at the old joke. "Why does everyone tease me about who I like? I already told you, I don't like Garet!" Her grin returned. "In fact… _especially _if it's Garet."

Felix smiled. That statement might not be entirely truthful on her part, but he appreciated the sentiment. "Whenever you're ready, Jen, we'll go."

She smiled. "'kay. Going to escort me?"

Felix thought it over, and then offered her his arm. "What kind of a brother would I be if I didn't?"

She crooked her elbow into his, and laughed. "Let's go!"

Sheba and Ivan talked quietly as she laid out her items, both of them already changed into their formal wear. Sheba carefully lined up her Lachesis' Rule; her own Psychic Circlet; a pair of Aerial Gloves; a fluffy Feathered Robe; a pair of Hyper Boots; and a Golden Ring.

"I really am glad that you found out where you were born," Ivan said softly. "And for me, too. After all, I'm descended from the Anemosians as well."

Sheba nodded, and smiled. "We're two peas in a pod, I guess." She stroked her dress absently with her hand. "It was really nice of the Anemosians to give this to me."

It was clothing in the style of the Anemosians, woven from the moonflower, a elegant plant that bloomed only on Luna. It was also known as Luna's Tears, because some say it symbolized the dark god's regret and remorse for all he had done wrong. Personally, Sheba was rather leery of that superstition. Since when is the God of Darkness remorseful?

The dress was shaped like priest's wear, a rather simple loose gown with long sleeves that flowed past her hands, and a wide u-cut in the front and back that when seen together, showed a wide circle cut from the material and stitched with small petals. A violet vest covered the upper half of hero torso, and was fastened in the back with strings. A dark mauve blouse, lengthened to come to her knees, was worn under the dress to compensate for the semi-transparency of the moonflower wear. Sheba's hair was fluffier than normal, and was lacking its usual flat bowl shape – courtesy of Dora's attentions.

Ivan, for his part, was wearing his usual purple tunic, but instead of his gold-coloured leather plate and short cloak, he wore a sweeping cape, light grey in colour. His hair was pushed back out of his eyes, but other than that he looked much the same. "Sheba?" He asked, hesitantly. "Will you allow me the pleasure of taking the first dance with you?"

She blinked in surprise. She smiled, equally hesitant. "O-of course, Ivan."

Aleos wandered through the Valean community, taking note of the restoration progress. There were only a few homes built, and those were given to the elderly and young babies, who couldn't sleep outside in tents or under the stars like everyone else.

He said a muffled curse and stomped his foot, glaring at nothing in particular. Vale was as foolish and weak as ever. When there was a war to be fought, soldiers to find, their first instinct was to have a _celebration_. Not only that, a _dance_. He knew he wasn't the most easygoing type, but certain people needed to really set their priorities straight.

He considered not attending, but he knew the other Fivefold would force him to. So he resolved to go, but nothing under Sol could force him to change into formal wear. His military suit and scholar's cloak would be good enough, he assumed.

He felt a tug at his sleeve, which he ignored, but it was followed by a more forceful one. Annoyed, he looked around for the cause, but saw nothing. On the third tug, he looked down and saw a small girl, no more than six, dressed in simple clothes.

She put her index finger to her mouth and looked at him in uncannily. "Mr. Aleos," she said, tugging again. "Do you like Miss Cara?" She asked, a mischievous glint in her turquoise eyes.

Aleos gaped at her. "What did you say?"

"Do you like Miss Cara?" The girl repeated, more confidently.

Aleos glared at her. "No, of course not. Run along, little girl, and get ready for the dance."

The girl frowned, pouting. "Are you sure? She's really cute, you know, and I'm sure you two would make a wonderful couple!"

"I am sure..." He said, trailing off. He cupped a hand suddenly on her cheek, and looked closely into her eyes. The little girl shifted uncomfortably, and began to feel as if he was looking into her soul. "… Maris." He broke into a wicked grin, and the little girl shrieked and dashed off, leaving Aleos shaking his head, amused.

The little girl rounded a Valean cliff and leaned against the rock, breathing heavily. As she began to catch her wind, she couldn't help but laugh. "Aleos is a lot more perceptive than I remember him," she said, and waved a hand over her body. The shape of the innocent little girl waved, and melted away into that of Maris, onetime princess of Imil. One of the benefits to being merely a host to the power of Sol Aurarius was the ability to change form at will. There were limitations, of course: she couldn't become a fish or sprout a third arm. Simply change her human appearance.

She looked down at her Imilian robes, and smiled cheerily. "While I'm here, I might as well get ready for the dance." She waved her hand again, and with a shimmer the heavy wear became a slim azul dress, a rather low-cut one. This was balanced, however, by a pair of white ribbons that were pinned to the straps, approximately four inches wide. From a short length of ribbon that fell over her back, the ribbons went from over her shoulders and crossed over her chest, before continuing across her sides and crossing again at the small of her back, then crossing once more across her legs before ending as two separate ribbons, trailing just above her ankles and pinned to the bottom of her dress.

She flicked a hand at her navy blue hair, and it immediately obeyed her command, winding itself into a bun, leaving only about six inches unravelled to grace the back of her head. She smiled, and set out for the dance.

* * *

Isaac, Mia, Piers, and Garet were standing in a small group, talking animatedly as they waited for everyone to arrive. The dance was due to start anytime, so they were passing the time by discussing the equipment they were going to bring tomorrow. 

"Sol Blade, Cosmo Shield, Valkyrie Mail, Crown of Glory, and Hyper Boots," Isaac answered calmly to Piers' question. The Venus Adept was clad in clothes that were simple, yet elegant: blue trousers and a classy shirt that was just hinting towards azure, with gold trimmings. A velvety cape of the exact same colour replaced his beloved yellow scarf, which was no coincidence. He reached back and absently ruffled his hair out from under his collar, and turned to the redhead standing beside him. "What about you, Garet?" He asked, turning to his childhood friend.

"Fire Brand, Riot Gloves, Dragon Scales, Gloria Helm, and Quick Boots," he rattled off, and grinned. He looked comfortable in his forest green tunic with an orange vest over it, tied with several bands of leather underneath. He wore stiff shoulder guards with gold tassels, and brown pants tucked into polished leather boots.

Mia shook her head slowly, looking at Garet's attire. "I can't believe what you're wearing, Garet. Why, it almost looks exactly like what you normally wear." For her part, she wore an eggshell blue skirt and an azure blouse, with a sky-coloured scarf wrapped through her hair. A little summer cloak was tied around her shoulders, a white cloud pattern traced on the navy material.

Garet laughed, somewhat sheepishly. "Well, I'd rather be somewhat casual then look like Mercury boy here," he jerked his them towards Piers, who frowned.

"Garet, we Lumerians take our festivities very seriously. They provided life to our otherwise bland existence, trapped in Lumeria as we were," he informed him. He was wearing a full sea captain's wear, clothes he had brought from his ship. The navy material was fastened over the right side with gold buttons, and he had slipped gold bands around his wrists. His headdress was still fastened tightly underneath his hair, but the white and blue didn't flow so well with the darker material of his uniform. Nonetheless, he still managed to strike a regal figure.

"We need this," Isaac stated plainly. "I can only speak for myself, but after journeying around the world for over a year, afterwards devoting the majority of our time to rebuilding Vale, and then being informed we have to venture out again," he shook his head as if the very idea was preposterous. "It's a bit much. This is a distraction. The other Valeans need it, too. They've been working just as hard." He ran a hand along his sleeve, smoothing out some of the wrinkles. "We've done these celebrations before. Let's hope this one is a lot better then the others."

"You going to show off your moves this time, Isaac?" Garet teased. Despite being hailed as a hero, Isaac never had the most outgoing personality – that was mostly his fiery friend's territory. He'd rather sit on the sidelines and watch everyone else dance, as opposed to demeaning himself by trying it.

The blonde hid the barest smile. "We'll see. Someday, I'll show you my mettle and astonish your puny mind."

The first notes cracked the crisp night air as one of the musicians hesitantly plucked the first notes on a violin. There was a short pause as the woman poked at the strings, testing them for consistency, which apparently she deemed satisfactory. She set the bow to the strings and wound out a lilting but simple tune, at first just running up and down the musical scale, but slowly she added more elements, until the plain exercise evolved into a complex solo.

Another musician stepped on stage, a viola swinging in his hand. He braced it against his chin and went through the same warm up routine as his counterpart, temporarily off-setting her rhythm. But after a nod at each other, they began a slow, slothful duet of low keys separated by sudden climbs into high notes.

Throughout this, the field slowly filled up with more and more Adepts, all dressed in formal wear, or what they thought passed for it. Mia and Isaac were shyly dancing on the side, underneath the tree, while Piers and Garet stood a safe distance away, the latter rolling his eyes.

At last, everyone was in attendance. The Great Healer and the Mayor stood side by side, the Healer standing straight-backed and formal while Keith stood at a half slouch, his hand curved around a foaming mug of ale. There was utter silence, and then he raised his voice and cried, "Let the party begin!"

It was as if a Pyroclasm had gone off. Somebody leapt to the stage and began madly sawing away at a fiddle, generating a jaunty tune that despite having little rhythm to it, was quite catchy. The violin and viola players bowed out, and a person with a banjo took the stage, holding the simple instrument of sheep gut stretched across a hollowed-out timber with a long neck. He and the fiddle player nodded at each other, stood back to back, and played out a bouncing country tune. Excited, the mass of Adepts swung towards each other, linking elbows. Then, the festival really began.

After several hours of exhausting dancing, no one, including the groups of musicians, had the strength to go on any longer. Everyone was hot and sweaty, and the drinks of squeezed fruit were fast running out. The mayor rose to his feet, his wife beside him, each red in the face and breathing heavily. He clapped his hands twice, attaching the attention of the crowd.

"I think it would be in all our interests to take a short rest!" He boomed. "Let a fresh round of drinks be handed out, and we'll take volunteers for slow performances now!" He sat down heavily, and from the tone of his voice, a calming show was exactly what he was hoping for.

There were murmurs from the crowd, but nobody had the energy to do a solo piece in front of everybody.

In the meantime, Jenna and Sheba cornered Felix, both wearing wicked grins. "Why weren't you dancing more, Felix?" Sheba said, mild disappointment clear in her tone. "There were plenty of girls who were hoping for a dance."

"Sheba not the least of them," Jenna snickered.

Ignoring the Anemosian's indignant 'hey!', Felix responded in his usual smooth tone, but he seemed distracted. "The only one I want to dance with isn't here."

"Oh?" Jenna pounced, eyes bright. Felix didn't talk about who he was interested in very often, so she seized the opportunity to press for details. "And who would that be?" She scanned her eyes over the crowd, but all the people she knew – Sheba excepting – were lost in the shuffle, so she couldn't tell who was there or not. She turned back to interrogate Felix more, but he suddenly wasn't there. She blinked in surprise, then Sheba tapped on her shoulder.

"Look, he's going on stage!"

Jenna whirled around and stared in disbelief. "What? But Felix has no musical talent whatsoever! Why does he want to perform?"

"Maybe he thought being heckled by the crowd was better than being subjected to you, Jenna," Sheba suggested, and narrowly dodged a slap from Jenna. "Hey, take it easy! I'm an Anemosian now, I demand respect!"

Jenna rolled her eyes. "You did from the start, Child of the Gods," she muttered, then her eyes widened as she saw Felix take the violin from one of the former performers, who looked happy to get rid of it and take a break.

A hush fell over the crowd as Felix slowly climbed to the wooden platform, the instrument tenderly cradled in his hand. He pushed back his hair behind his shoulders, set the body under his chin, and put the bow to the strings. He swept it lazily across each string, sounding a different note, and then started to play.

Everybody stopped what they were doing and stared, enraptured. Even those that knew him well were open-mouthed; this was a side of Felix they had never seen before. He moved his head in sync with the movements of his bow, and wove out a net of tones like a ghost's whisper. They were rich, mellow notes, tinged with sadness but full of vitality at the same time, spinning out mostly low keys, but occasionally arcing upwards to test the limits of the violin's ability, but always, always, remaining slow in tempo.

It was not a fancy piece, but there was something attractive in its simplicity, something that sung to the child in everyone who still remembers being bounced on their parent's knee and being sung a lullaby, of sleeping late at night under the stars. And indeed, as if the music called them, the clouds dispersed from the sky and one by one the stars winked in, until Felix was playing both to a starstruck audience, and the stars themselves. Time wheeled by and Luna climbed even higher, and still he played, his entire body swaying rhythmically in time to the sound of the violin, as if it and he were one being.

Finally, finally, like a dying breath, he hit the lowest notes the instrument was capable of, letting the bow slide off the strings and hang at his side, gripped tightly in his hand. He looked up, sweaty but clearly exhilarated from the performance, and took a bow of his own.

Everyone stood in stunned silence for a moment, and then burst into wild applause. Felix took another bow, wiped his hair off his face, and started to climb down the stage. He was prevented from doing so, however, by someone climbing up.

Piers vaulted onto the stage and whispered something to Felix. Felix whispered a response, nodded to his friend, and stepped aside so Piers could take centre stage. Felix sat on the side and watched, interest flickering in his eyes.

Piers smiled charmingly at the crowd and reached into one of his sailors pockets, drawing something out. He raised to his lips blew a scale into the tubes.

It was a syrinx, also known as a panpipe, carved of yew, with fifteen stopped pipes of gradually increasing size. It was the traditional instrument of Lumeria, and Piers thought it appropriate to represent his country in such a way at this festival.

With a smile on his lips, he raised the panpipe and blew into the fourth smallest pipe, creating a high continuous note, then wiggled the higher end of the pan to create a hand vibrato effect. He let the first note die away, and then launched into a well-known (at least in Lumeria) and very old song, one that didn't need skill so much as endurance to play. A singer usually accompanied it, but as Piers quickly blew along the entire pan and added the vibrato on the higher end – meant to symbolize water flowing – he resigned himself to having to do without. The syrinx was a flexible instrument, at any rate.

His concentration was temporarily shattered as a high-pitched cry of excitement split the air, and the crowd murmured angrily, having just begun to enjoy the soulful music.

Maris burst from the front rows of the crowd and ran for the stairs, almost falling over for the ribbon wrapped around her legs. She caught herself and ran to Piers, hair bouncing. She clasped her hands together in front of her and smiled happily. "I know that song! May I sing along with you?"

Piers blinked with surprise and lowered the syrinx. "Of course," he responded with equal courtesy, silently thanking Mercury for providing.

Maris smiled winningly, and turned to the faintly skeptical crowd, her hands still clasped under her chin, and her blue eyes sparkling. She waited for Piers to play the intro to the song again, and closed her eyes to the lilting sound of a master panpipe player. Piers also had closed his eyes and was tilting the panpipe, angling his jaw to hit every note, adding various degrees of vibrato at the end of every few bars, a characteristic of the Aquarius Tradegy.

Then, she opened her mouth and began to sing in her soprano voice:

_Hold, hold, hold me, bear me safely to my home  
Gently guide me as I ride upon your splashing foam.  
Caress my cheek with a warm southern breeze  
Cradled by your waves, I dwell in a daze…  
Gazing up into a clear blue sky  
And if I ever leave you, my sea,  
Let me die… oh, let me die…_

_Sea, sea, why do you treat me so  
I know not why you roar with rage  
My ship, betraying, becomes my cage  
Merciless needles pound on my bars  
Angry thunder, my spirit marred.  
Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, I cannot count any longer.  
The immense wave comes down on me, and bears me under…  
And lo, lo… I weep._

_Hold, hold, hold me, bear me safely to my home  
Gently guide me as I ride upon your splashing foam.  
Caress my cheek with a warm southern breeze  
Cradled by your waves, I dwell in a daze…  
Gazing up into a clear blue sky  
And if I ever leave you, my sea,  
Let me die… oh, let me die…_

_Spinning into the depths, Bubbles rising, my last breaths.  
My hair floating like an aura, the winking eyes of the Mora.  
Hungry and gazing, waiting for me to die.  
I'm wet all over; I'm sinking fast,  
I count so slowly my seconds last.  
The sea grows saltier with my tears  
As I cry, my sea… I cry._

_Hold, hold, hold me, bear me safely to my home  
Gently guide me as I ride upon your splashing foam.  
Caress my cheek with a warm southern breeze  
Cradled by your waves, I dwell in a daze…  
Gazing up into a clear blue sky  
And if I ever leave you, my sea,  
Let me die… oh, let me die…_

_You had loved me after all, my sea.  
Your past transgressions forgotten by me.  
I'm all alone with you now, without a care.  
Where you carry me, I don't know where.  
Motionless I am enfolded by you  
Unseeingly I see the waves  
Now I know your love is true  
The sea, sweet sea, my sea… my grave…_

Towards the later parts of the song, the crowd had picked up on the lyrics of the chorus and was singing along, varying expressions on their faces ranging from excitement to a calm serenity. Maris was having the time of her life, leaning forward with her hands clasped behind her back, singing her heart out. Never since her mortal life when she was reunited with Lynn and Hydros was she this happy. Despite being bone weary of life on occasion and the past depression that one thousand years of solitude had caused, this, she felt, made it all worthwhile. To live again.

Piers, likewise, was in awe: the sheer power this song possessed was astounding. Not power in the sense of a Psynergy, a physical power, but the very beauty of it affected the emotions of the heart. It was the song of the Imilian royal family, written to express the love of the ocean that all Mercurians bear, and how to their race it was more important than life itself. He could relate to the song, to the feeling of being alone with the sea, and having an intimate relationship with it.

Finally, both he and Maris trailed off on the lowest note they could manage, and shot each other a euphoric and triumphant look, out of breath but exhilarated. The crowd burst into wild applause, and Maris and Piers took their bows. The rest of the group was arrayed on the sides of the stage, clapping as enthusiastically as everyone else.

However, as the applause died down, one particular part became distinct: someone in the audience clapping slowly, methodically, at about one clap every few seconds. Soon, all eyes turned to the hooded figure in the depths of the crowd, who seemed to notice the attention on him. He reached up and lowered his hood, and the crowd all leapt back to get a good distance from the monster.

He might have passed for a normal human being with his hood up, in fact that was exactly how he infiltrated Vale without anyone noticing. But with his hood down, he was something that made the Fivefold gasp for air and automatically reach for their weapons.

A Mantrak.

Aligned to Mercury in addition to Luna, from his appearance. He bore the traditional Mantrak shadow for a visage, and he had a crystalline mane of cyan hair that to all intents and appearances appeared to be made out of ice. It shimmered as he turned his head to scan the crowd, the moon's light becoming trapped inside of the strands, where it glowed ethereally. A crown of the same material was placed on his head, with three distinctive prongs in the front. "What a sorry bunch we have here!" He barked out harshly, and the crowd cowered. Maris ran as fast as she could and hid behind Cinaed, glaring at the hatred creature, whose race had destroyed her hometown.

The Mantrak took a bound forward, scattering the crowd like mice and landing nimbly before the stage. He looked up at the wary Adepts around him and seemed to smirk. "This is the great Fivefold Demante fears? Pathetic." He snorted and turned around dismissively. The Fivefold bristled, and the eight Adepts were indignant on their behalf.

Aleos stepped forward, but another voice cut him off. The Great Healer had stood shakily and had pointed a accusing finger at the hellspawn. "What are you, demon? Why have you come here? Leave at once!"

The Mantrak whirled at once to the Healer, his hair spinning out behind him. He snarled, gathered strength in his legs and sprang at the venerable oldster, claws of ice forming at his knuckles. He flew twenty feet forward and extended his hand, ramming it into and through the old man's stomach.

The Great Healer gave a pained gasp, and looked down at the ice-covered arm intruding in on his innards with a mixture of weariness and outrage. "You… beast… Fate curse you," he coughed up blood, flecking the crimson liquid across the Mantrak's visage. He went down still gagging, and grew still

With a sickening squelch, the Luna withdrew his hand and flicked the blood off it, then turned to face the horror-struck crowd. "Why am I here?" He mocked. "I come bearing a message from Lord Demante, the Necromancer and Dark One, to the ones foolish enough to resist his coming reign. He will crush all dissidents to his righteous cause, and Weyard will be his. Here is the message," he cleared his throat and drew a parchment from his cloak, ripping open the seal and reading:

" 'Oh, so you want to play? Smiley face.' " He smirked at the confused expression that passed across the crowd, and laughed cruelly.

"It means, fools," he went on, "that our Lord views you simply as another enemy to crush, that your futile efforts to destroy him are in vain. This," he gestured to the body of the Great Healer behind him, "is our Lord's first move. Soon, there will be many more, until eventually…" he bashed his hands together and grinned. "Checkmate."

There was a roar from somewhere in the crowd, a flurry of grey sparkles and a black-and-silver blur from the crowd. Aleos flew at the demon, his hair whipping wildly behind him and his eyes inflamed with rage. "Your master will meet his demise like Regnoare before him, at my own hands!" He unsheathed Masamune from its Valean leather case and slashed, aiming to unseam the Mantrak diagonally from shoulder to hip.

The demon hissed and swung his hands together, locking the katana between the claws. He smirked and flexed, throwing off the Void Adept.

Aleos looked shocked, and flipped his hair out of his eyes. "Why didn't my blade cut you in half… it's supposed to be the sharpest in all Weyard. An old and master forger made this for Argyros himself. Why can a mere demon like you block it?" He demanded.

"Can you clearly not see the Mercury taint in its soul?" The Mantrak taunted. "I, aligned with Mercury and Luna, am resistant to its pathetic attempts."

A stream of fire barrelled over his head in response, and he dropped to the stage in an instant in fear for his head. The blast continued overheard and flew into the sky, dissipating somewhere over Mount Aleph.

Jenna and Garet were running forward, flames curling in their hands, with Cinaed floating behind them like a Proxian angel, his red and orange wings curling like fire. "If you're a Mercurian, we should be able to deal with you!" Jenna yelled, and tossed a fireball at him.

The Mantrak rolled out of the way, but the blast still caught his right hand, melting all the ice off it and searing his shadowflesh. He leapt up hissing, and cradled his hand. "You impertinent girl!" He shouted, and waved his good hand, casting Megacool.

As the storm of ice shards flew at her, Jenna just stuck out her hand and blasted it with a Searing Beam, a counter soon joined by a Liquefier from Garet and an Inferno from Cinaed. The Megacool was melted and then evaporated almost instantly, and the fire washed over the Mantrak.

The Mantrak stood stock still, his arms desperately crossed in front of him as the last glimmers of a bubble shield faded around him. He was still scorched, though, his cloak burnt through in places to show dark leather armour beneath. He uncrossed his arms, reforming the ice claws from the moisture in the air. He settled back and glared with a mixture of hatred and indignation, and spat out a curse. "You swine! When my master deals with you, he'll make sure you all die excruciatingly painful deaths!"

Cinaed laughed deeply in his chest, and for a moment the Mantrak was cowed. The sight of the red-maned Proxian in full dragoon armour with widespread wings was one to intimidate any, most of all his enemies. The Valukar flapped forward, drawing the halberd Draconix as he approached. "You're far outnumbered here, Mantrak. It would be a bad tactical move to stay and fight when it's guaranteed you will lose, with minimal casualties to your opponent. We have a message of our own to send to Demante: tell him to use a stronger opponent next time, because we won't hesitate to destroy you or anyone else in the future. Now, get out of here!" He roared suddenly, and the Mantrak smirked.

"Next time then, foolish rebels," with that, he took a bow and dissolved into the ground, turning into a puddle of darkness that was then drawn into the heart of the earth.

In the stunned silence that followed, Isaac's voice broke clear and strong across the field. "So, that's what we're fighting against," the tone was casual, confident, and above all, unafraid. All eyes turned with surprise to the blond, who stepped out from the masses and addressed his friends and the Valeans on a whole. "Our enemy, this 'Demante' has shown his presence and given us a warning to stay away. At the very least, that shows he's worried about what we might be capable of," his voice said this as if there was no doubt, as if victory was only a matter of time. "He likes to play games, huh?" he paused. "We'll show him that we can play, too. We'll set out first thing tomorrow," he added with confidence. "Come hell, fire, or brimstone."

"And what, leave the Great Healer laying there?" Sheba said sarcastically. She cast Volatilis and glided over, alighting gently before the venerable man's body. Furrowing her brow, she leaned in and used Mind Read, the easiest way to determine how someone was faring. Or if they were dead.

She received faint thoughts of pain, and stood quickly. "He's alive!" She announced, and suddenly she was surrounded by a flurry of activity. The ones capable of healing, namely Venus and Mercury Adepts, immediately leapt up to help, surrounded by the concerned Mars and Jupiter adepts. All of Vale was suddenly bent on the saving of its eldest leader: there were Revives to replenish his soul, and the most powerful Cures and Plys that were able to be mustered.

Somewhere in the chaos, a small blue orb was tossed onto the Great Healer, a faintly rotating creature of little sentience. Gold rings encircled its body, and everyone stared at it in bewilderment then amazement as it began to cast Psynergy, glowing with a blue light and dispersing its spell over the Great Healer. With a flash, it disappeared, returning to the one who cast it. The ghostly outlines of navy blue robes faded from the person in question, and she whispered a silent word of thanks to the Refresh spirit.

With a groan, the Great Healer stirred, and a cheer went up through the Valeans.

In the ensuing madness, the Mayor ordered for a double guard to be posted that night. The assistant Healers clustered around to tend to their leader, and while the Adepts and Kraden parted ways from the crowd, stopping a fair distance from everyone else.

"Do we continue on tomorrow?" Orior inquired, looking around for popular opinion.

Kraden gave his assent on behalf of the eight. "We have no choice. The forces of darkness have performed their first act of war. Even if we refuse this quest, it is most likely he will devastate what we've rebuilt of Valeriam and eliminate us anyway, simply because we are a threat." The others nodded their agreement.

Felix stood decisively, shooting a look at Isaac. "We leave tomorrow, first light. I imagine an army of Luna would be weaker in the daytime, so we'll travel as far as we can before night falls." He scanned the Adepts, the core group of warriors who would defeat Demante, hopefully. "Take your equipment when you wake up, and meet us at the town gate." With a flare of the cloak on his military suit, he turned and left. Upon this signal, the others dispersed to their tents, and Kraden headed to his cottage. Cara lingered a moment longer, a thoughtful expression on her face, and then departed as well, leaving only the Fivefold standing amongst themselves.

Shamira smiled. "They're leading already, and we hardly had to do anything."

"Bear in mind, though, they've succeeded in a quest of their own. They are not amateurs, by any means," Orior reminded them.

"I can't wait to set out and see Hydros," Maris confessed. "I'm going to go to bed early so I can be first to the gate," she promised, and walked off towards the newly rebuilt in, Leviathan swinging at her side, humming a tune.

Shamira caught Cinaed looking after her and smirked. "Stare any harder and you'll burn a hole in her dress, mate." The Proxian blushed, a rare sight to see, and growled at Shamira.

Suppressing his laughter, Orior clapped his friend on the back. "We should be heading off, too."

Aleos frowned. "Fate will be overseeing our venture. Let it not go to waste." With a single nod, the Fivefold parted ways, each going to rest before they led a new generation of heroes on yet another quest to save the world.

* * *

In the darkest hour of the night, when black clouds obscured the glimmering stars and the bright moon, shadows began to stir. A sleep spell was cast over the vigilant guards and they collapsed, sunk into the oblivion of a dreamless rest. The spectres moved on, flitting from the undershades of buildings and into the shielded warmth of homes. Searching. 

And what they were searching for, they found. And tomorrow's journey was dealt a serious blow.

* * *

Postscript: The name 'Valeriam' is taken from the works of Sora G. Silverwind, a most excellent author. I thought it an apt 'formal' name for Vale, and decided to use it. Credit goes to her. 


	5. Chapter 5, Wires of Tension

**Dante: **Omg, to say I'm really late with this update would be an understatement. xD Last update was October of 2006... sorry it took so long! I started writing original fiction shortly after that, and got hooked, and I've only been able to delve back into fanfic for oneshots. Buuut I've been slowly poking away at this over that period, and I just finally finished it. I hope people still remember this story. xD

Anyway, forgive the inconsistent style/writing level - it took me so long to write this chapter my writing style kept changing as I was writing it.

Anyway, it's been long coming, but here it is! Also, it was starting to take too long, so I'll just do review responses by message 3

Chapter 5

Cinaed lay awake in bed, his hands folded under his head as he stared up at the ceiling, listening to the deep, rhythmic breathing of Aleos and Orior as they slept in their beds. His burgundy mane was arrayed out on the pillow below him, and he had rolled the sheet down to his waist to try to stave off the stifling summer heat. He watched as dancing leaves played mottled moonlight off his bare chest, shining off the scales that dusted his shoulders and trailed down his pectorals and arms.

He jerked sharply as there was a light rap on his door, and he sat up in his bed, hazel eyes watching the door to the inn room warily. "Who is it?"

"It's me, Maris. Can I come in?"

Cinaed took a quick glance around the room, saw his compatriots sound asleep, and gave his assent. There was a faint creak as the door racked open and the Imilian slipped in, a lighted candle shielded in her hands. She was wearing a light blue nightgown and her navy hair was down and mussed, as if she had lain restlessly. "You couldn't sleep either?" the Star Magician said, putting the candlestick down on the bedside table.

Cinaed shuffled over to the other side of the bed, leaned up on one elbow, and gestured for Maris to sit on the other side. He paused as if considering his answer, and then nodded. "No, I couldn't. It may simply be the unfamiliar room," he shrugged vaguely.

Maris sighed. There was several moments of uncomfortable pause, and at length, spoke. "But it's not that, is it? You can feel it, too, can't you?"

"I'm a warrior, a hunter, and what's more, a Proxian. My senses and instincts rarely fail me, and if a common human like you can feel what I'm feeling, it must be serious indeed."

Maris lay down beside him, and stared up at the ceiling as he looked at her expectantly. "What do you feel?" she asked softly.

He paused for a moment, wrapped in silence as he collected his thoughts. "A deep unsettled instinct," he responded. "I cannot put my finger on the cause, but I something doesn't seem natural. It's too quiet, as if all the small creatures had fallen ill or frightened. Listen," he said, and nodded up at the open window. "Even the crickets and such have stopped chirping."

Maris shivered, her turquoise eyes tossing a look at the window herself. She snuggled up to the Proxian, feeling the warmth of the Mars Adept enfold her as he smiled down and put an arm around her shoulder, idly brushing her hair with the backs of his fingers. "Cinaed," she said softly, "do you think it's related to our quest tomorrow?"

Cinaed looked down as she turned her face up to look at him, and he smiled. "For all we know, it could be. Many forces seek to oppose us, but we mere men cannot know them all – that is up to the Gods. We must merely fulfill the role they give to us warriors, to defend what is right and just. Why do you ask?" he said lightly, as she turned around and leaned back into his chest. "Are you afraid to leave?"

"Well… maybe just a little," she admitted. "But don't you dare tell anyone, Cinaed! It's just, for all our 'experience' in travelling the world, _this is not our world_. The landscape, the people, the very water itself are all different… things have happened over these past thousand years, Cinaed, and the land bears the mark. Can't you feel it?"

Cinaed was quiet for a moment, stroking her hair thoughtfully. "There is a story in Prox that Fire, the great Element of Mars, is shaped and formed by all that it has consumed… fed on brush and trees, the fire spreads throughout the forest, leaving desolation behind, but refertilising the soil. We also cremate our people, so that they may return to the Fire. If fire is used for evil, it will begin to savour the taste of flesh, and will burn more fiercely, and be more difficult to control. In the ancient days – far beyond our time – the Fire was used severely in war, and as its nature became more and more wild, the Adepts would sought to wield it found they couldn't control it, and the fire ripped through Weyard ruthlessly." He smiled down on her. "It may be a primitive fable, but the earth now has borne everything this past Dim Age, and it has undoubtedly changed."

Maris looked blankly at him for a moment, then elbowed him in the ribs. "Wow, I never knew you were such a wise shaman, Cinaed."

"_Oof_," the Proxian winced, and mussed the Imilian's hair, to which she shouted indignantly.

They froze as Aleos and Orior stirred in their sleep, and the former buried his head deeper into the pillow.

"We need to be quieter," Cinaed said archly, in a whisper.

"Tell me about it," Maris said breaking down into giggles. "Look at us, here. If they were to catch us like this, we'd never hear the end of it."

Cinaed appeared to think about this. "That's true. Anyway," Cinaed continued, "I suspect the real reason the world is different is because of the most obvious one – it is suffering from a thousand years of lack of Alchemy, and so it has eroded, changed, and become weaker." He paused for a moment, and tilted her head up to look at him. "You're worried about Lumeria, right?"

"Well, it's not that simp-, what I mean is- well, yes," she admitted. "If the world's changed as much as it seems to have, I'm afraid what shape Lumeria is going to be in. Aleos said Hydros is still alive, but I just don't know, Cinaed," she leaned back and blew her bangs out of her eyes, worried.

Cinaed reached up with one roughened Proxian hand and tucked her bangs behind her ears, smiling tenderly. "Maris, love, there's no use worrying about what tomorrow will bring, especially not at a late hour such as this. The least we can do is simply go to sleep, and wake up in the morning, well-rested."

Maris gave a little sigh and a sheepish smile. "You're right, as always. Goodnight, my wise dragon," she tilted her head back as he tilted his down, and they kissed upside-down.

As she nestled against her Proxian lover, his hands curling gently around her waist as he drew her towards him, a serene quiet fell over the room, filled only by the muted breathing of Orior and Aleos. Slowly, in sync, the Imilian and Proxian's breathing began to slow as well as they drew away from consciousness, down to that sleeping dreamland, past dreamland, to that subconscious state of relaxation where evil could not reach.

If only.

The door to the innroom disappeared – except, it did not so much disappear as _crunch_ in on itself, folding inside over and over as if it was a piece of tissue paper, sending splinters flying in every direction. But even those splinters could not escape the door's fate, as they seemed to fly through the air, freeze, and then draw back into the black and swirling vortex where the door had been, only a few remnants visible, pieces of oak just disappearing through the portal.

"Hmmm, what?" Maris mumbled lazily, half opening one eye. "Who's making that awful racket…?"

It took her brain a few moments to register just what was happening, and by then the first of the shadowy, ghost-like claws had emerged from the darkness beyond the door. "By Nereid! Everyone, wake up! We've got company!" She realized her own foolishness then, in leaving herself undefended – Leviathan was back in her room.

"Wake up!" she yelled frantically, and raised her hand. There was a gathering of red psynergy, and an Anger Ball formed there, steam hissing already from between the chinks in its armour. With a roundabout swing, she hurled the not-very-happy Ball into the portal, and waited for the inevitable explosion.

There was none, and as she opened her eyes, she saw the first of the creatures, not five paces from her. The Anger Ball was nowhere to be seen, and the creature seemed to be wearing a derisive smirk, as if laughing at her pathetic attempt.

It was merely an insubstantial shape, a suggestion of a form standing- floating, rather – before her. A long, sinuous and gaseous tail served both as its body and its legs, the tip just barely scraping the ground as it looked at her flippantly. Three-clawed "hands", if they could be called that, floated like pincers in the air, connected to the "body" by a single black thread, or so it seemed. Its head was blunt and jarring forward, vaguely birdlike, its beak half-open to display… nothingness. Golden eyes glared at her from deep-set sockets, and a frill of spines rose from the back of its head. But again, it just seemed… a shadow, something not really there.

"_Br-r-r-r-r-r-ack!" _it choked out, in a surprisingly deep voice, and from the still-moving portal behind it three more emerged.

A fireball streaked over Maris' shoulder and at the beast, and she didn't have to turn to know it was from Cinaed, who would be undoubtedly standing in a dramatic pose, sheets wrapped around his waist to save his dignity, one hand flung out in front of a hardened expression, the other holding up the blanket. She smiled knowingly, and waited for the creature to be blown to bits by the attack.

It didn't happen. It passed through the creature as if it wasn't even there, the glow of the fire vanishing in the portal behind. The creature smiled viciously. It then began to advance on Maris, its claws reaching forward ahead of it.

Maris gave a cry, and looked around frantically for something, anything, to defend herself. Her eyes alit on Draconaix, Cinaed's halberd, and she seized it. Wrapping both hands around the shaft, she struggled to lift it.

_Neptune!_ She thought with amazement. _It must weigh well near seventy pounds! _She managed to lift the shaft off the ground, but the head lay stubbornly on the floor. She gave a frustrated cry of hopelessness, but just then powerful arms reached from behind her, placing scaled and roughened hands over hers.

"Let's do this together," Cinaed said coolly, calming her. She set her mouth, and nodded, and lifted with all her might. Cinaed lifted as well, and the weapon swung easily off the ground, its steel edge brought to bear, and for a moment, the creature hesitated.

Now it was their turn to seize the moment, as the blade swung like the executioner's axe, aiming to diagonally bisect the creature.

"No, stop!" Aleos' voice, alarmed. He had awakened during the battle. "That's a Demitia, a gravity demon! You can't kill it like-"

His voice stopped midsentence as his point became readily apparent – the blade passed through the creature with hardly a whisper, and then on the return trip, the Demitia's claw raised and caught it, three bladed claws encircling it easily.

Cinaed and Maris had never felt anything like it. Suddenly, the weapon in their hands grew inexplicably heavy, suddenly weighing a hundred, five hundred, a thousand pounds. Maris' delicate hands nearly broke at the strain, and she gave a squeal and ducked away. Cinaed glared alone across at the creature, hazel eyes burning with an internal fire, as his muscles bulged and veins stood out like cords.

The Demitia only smiled once more, and then waves of rippling darkness blasted out from its hands and down the shaft of the weapon, which suddenly seemed to weigh a million pounds. Cinaed dropped it with an exclaimed curse, and watched as the shaft fell and shattered through the floorboards-

Only to stop as the creature tightened its grip on it and lifted it, light as a feather, onto its shoulder. It gave Cinaed a jaunty wave goodbye, then turned and vanished through the portal, taking Draconaix with it.

Maris and Cinaed turned and saw with alarm their friends wrestling with their own creatures, Aleos valiantly fighting off one of them with an unearthly glow emanating from Masamune, and it seemed neither of the two creatures was willing to touch it, as they dodged every slash he made.

Over his shoulder, a not-so-sleepy-anymore Orior was tugging on the hilt of Auraleo, while the claws of the hissing demon were wrapped around its blade. The creature spared a glance the Proxian's way, noted the absence of his fellow, and turned back to Orior. As with Cinaed, a blast of darkness emanated from its claws, and Orior let go of Auraleo with a muted cry of surprise. Then, the creature turned on Aleos, and swung the gold-green blade.

The Wise One's eyes widened as he caught the blade coming from his peripheral vision, and he turned Masamune to bear, blocking the creature's slash and, with a deft turn of his wrist sent the creature flying through the portal – unfortunately, Orior's sword still in hand.

It was all the opening the other two creatures needed, as they reached from behind him, each one grabbing a wrist.

Aleos only had time for a brief "Wha-" before the creature's eyes glowed, and a cackling storm of black energy ripped through the air, sending wave after wave of Luna over Aleos, who let out a grunt of pain. His eyes, squinted with pain, narrowed, and with a burst of energy which sent the creature's flying back, the human Aleos disappeared –

and the Wise One floated there.

It seemed Fate was angry with his servant, however. Lacking hands, Masamune dropped uselessly to the ground, and clattered before the demons. They looked at it, before finally snapping out of their reverie and snatching it up, disappearing through the portal with one last terrified look over their shoulders. The portal closed, and silence reigned supreme in the room.

The Wise One's eye lowered to the floor, and in his rocky expression all could read his disbelief. The rock shifted, grinding against itself to form a man-shape, before closing over the azure eye and bursting into dust to reveal Aleos standing there, disbelief still acutely visible on his expression.

"Look," Maris said mutely, and pointed at the floor where the portal had been. In its place, words were scrawled, as if with heavy black charcoal. They are stared as they read:

_Your move._

The silence stretched for a couple more moments, and was broken suddenly by Aleos' harsh laughter. "So," he choked out between gasps of mirth, "Demante still thinks this is all a game, does he? Still thinks it's just a schoolyard game of chess! Well, he's sadly mistaken."

The Void Adept turned to the window, and stalked towards it. "Demante! Hear me, this is no game! You may have taken away our playing toys, but in the end, you'll find yourself distraught, all your betting come to naught. I don't care who you are, what kind of powers you have, or by Coatlicue's thong, I don't care about anything! I've had enough of you, and I swear now, I _will_ destroy you!"

Suddenly, just as quickly as it had come, Aleos' rage disappeared. "Just as we defeated you the first time," he spoke, barely a whisper, "so shall we defeat you again. I did not risk everything and suffer a thousand years of slavery to let another darkness of shadow cover our land."

The others stood in silence, shocked at Aleos' outburst. Then, Maris stepped forward and laid a gentle hand on Aleos' shoulder. "Aleos…" she said compassionately.

He whirled around, silvered hair flying out behind him, and shoved her. The Imilian stumbled back a few paces, and Orior put an arm in front of Cinaed, stopping the man as he gritted his teeth and made to move forward.

"What…" Aleos said through gritted teeth and panting, glaring at Maris from under the messy strands of his hair. "… do you want. Want do you want from me. Is it not enough that we have just suffered our first loss of the war!? Without our weapons, what are we? Those are the only things that guided us through defeating Regnoare the first time, in case you have forgotten!!"

But Maris would not be swayed. "We managed just fine without their power against the Spirits," she said quietly. "And you haven't done so bad yourself without it, in one thousand years."

"Heh… yeah, right." Aleos said bitterly. "A demigod, that's what they called me. Sure. Of course I managed just fine… I've lost my humanity. And what are you doing in here, anyway!?" he suddenly demanded.

Maris blinked, startled. "What?"  
"What are you doing in our room?" Aleos demanded again. His eyes flicked back to Cinaed, standing in only a sheet. "Ah. I see. Having a little fun, are we?"

"Aleos!" Maris said, shocked. "What's gotten into you?"

"It's not what's gotten into me, it's what I've realised." He gave a hollow laugh. "No wonder we lost our first match of the war… you two are more concerned with rutting like rabbits than our cause."

"ALEOS." Cinaed said angrily, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"What is it, Proxian?" Aleos said, laughingly. "Can't handle the truth? _We_ are the Fivefold, legendary warriors and sacred knights… we should be above such… activities. And besides, this is an inn, _not,_" he gave a sweeping gesture of the room. "A whorehouse."

Maris and thus far, remained quiet, head downcast and hands balled into fists at her side. Now she looked up, cerulean eyes blazing behind her mussed hair. "Are you," she said, far too icily, "calling me a whore?"

"Yes, I am, my dear," Aleos said, his eyes dancing with challenge. "For that's exactly what you are. What would your father Poseidon say," he went on mockingly. "If he were to see you now, you _whore_."

Maris stood in silent shock for a moment, her mouth agape and her eyes wide with disbelief. "I can't believe, you just-" then her features hardened and her eyes narrowed, and she reached up and slapped Aleos' across the face. Hard. "How could you say that!?"

"You are!" Aleos cried, his own hands clenching and unclenching, as if he was itching to use them. "_I_ am the one who finally defeated Regnoare, _I_ am the one the Gods' chose as their messenger, _I am the one who laboured day in and day out for a thousand years to keep Weyard safe!_ And _then_," he said, his voice thick with bitterness and mockery. "Then, after I free you from a thousand years of blessed, senseless confusion, what is the first thing you do? You go and do _this_! When we have a new cause to serve, greater than ever before! THIS is what you should be concerned with, not with exploring every part of Cinaed's body!"

A primal growl escaped Cinaed's lips and he lurched forwards once again, and Orior once more put a hand on Cinaed's arm and stopped him, even though he himself was glaring at Aleos with anger in his eyes.

"Are you so much of a child, you spoil Imilian brat, that you think you can do whatever you want and shirk your duties whenever you feel like it? Is that what you think? Well, let me tell you something, _whore._ You are sadly mistaken!" he proclaimed, practically screaming with rage.

His words seemed to hung in the silence afterwards like a poison, a polluted fog that clouded the minds of all those present.

"Aleos…" Cinaed said dangerously, and made as if to step forward. Orior made no move to prevent him.

"Stop." It was Maris, as she swept back a hand dismissively. "Let me deal with this."

"Aleos," she said, in a dangerous tone, fires burning in her eyes. "What happened to you? What have you become? _Mercury_, the Aleos I knew would never say such things to someone he once called his ally, his fellow Fivefold, and his friend. You really lost your humanity… haven't you?" She glared at him. "Too many years lording over all humanity, drifting in a far off place, revelling in your ultimate power and by Pelagius, why not immortality, too? You had everything you could want: a place in the world, serving the very Gods themselves, with a promise to be reunited with your lost ones someday! It must've been nice, was it, having people slave over your every whim and fall to their knees whenever you entered the room?"

The bitterness in Aleos' eyes could've rivalled poison. "Do not lecture me," he said harshly, "about what you could never know, _Maris_. You weren't the one who couldn't know the simplest pleasures of eating, sleeping, even normal conversation with another human! Locked in the eternal cycle of trying to save a bunch of humans bent on destroying themselves, seeking the power of Sol Aurarius to rule the world?"

"Have you forgotten, Aleos?" Maris spat. "You're human, too. You may fool yourself with your all-importance in Weyard, but you and I, all of us, we're nothing more than humans, touched by Sol Aurarius. If you were locked in a _cycle_, _we_ were locked in Morxez, hell… not knowing even the comfort of the sun. Yet nonetheless, we are human, with human feelings and emotions and dreams, and so are you."

Aleos snarled. "I renounced my humanity long ago. I know only what the Gods tell me to do and what I must do to achieve Weyard's peace." He turned away, to the window. "Only once that is done, can I finally rest. With Aquina, and all those we left behind in our time," he said softly.

There was a solemn pause, as the atmosphere in the room reached a fervour pitch, a choking fog. Cinaed and Orior waited guardedly to see what Maris would say, waiting to intervene if things got out of hand.

Then… a new voice rang out. "Did you really think that's what I would want you to do, brother? Waste what precious moments of life you have left, living everything in mourning for me? That's sweet and all, but Aleos, that's just not right."

Aleos' blood froze, and for a moment he wondered if he had gone insane, mad with long-pent up grief. A dark corner of his mind would've welcomed this refrain from thought, but Aleos knew reality was still before him. Almost dreading what he could see, Aleos turned around slowly… and almost died of shock.

There, almost as if she had never been poisoned from the inside out my Regnoare's darkness spell and then battered by the ruining of Vale, was Aquina. Her teal-coloured hair – which she inherited from her mother, Aleos remembered, and he had almost forgotten it's almost ethereal glossiness – was parted in the centre of her forehead like it always had been, as if one thousand years had not passed, tucked behind her ears and then curling over her neck in the exact way it always had. Her face was set in an unfamiliar expression, one that spoke volumes of love, confusion, and betrayal… all at the same time. She was clad in a simple nightgown, and the grey eyes she shared with her brother seemed to look right through him.

"Aleos…" she said, stepping forward and compassionately taking his hand. "_What _have you become? Would you cast your own life aside to dwell in the bitterness of the past, forgo the very friends and family that stood by you… you sadden me, Aleos," she said sharply, and for a moment an expression of hurt flashed across his face. "You reduce yourself to petty insults and find comfort in your arrogance, when in reality, you are nothing more than a dried up husk of a man," she spat. "Sometimes, I wish that you would have died with me in Vale, and Regnoare had taken over the world. For what good is living if we live at each other's throats and hoard our pride like gold? I think you need a reality check, Aleos dear. You have forgotten what it means to be human, to feel emotion… you've cut yourself off from humankind, as you said. And both your family…"

There was a shimmering around her, like waves of heat off black rock in the summer, a golden sparkle, and suddenly she was Aquina no more, but Maris, standing in front of Aleos and glaring daggers in his eyes. "Until you have regained your humanity, Aleos, you are **dead to me,**" she said harshly, "what good is it talking to someone who has lost what it means to be human? One might as well talk to a Mantrak, you heartless _Wise One_. Goodbye," Maris said forlornly, then turned and ran out of the room.

Silence once more reigned supreme, and then Cinaed levelled a dark Proxian glare at the Void Adept. "I will never forgive you this insult, Aleos," he spat. "My Maris is _not_ a whore." With a self-righteous tug, he fastened the sheet around him tightly, grabbed his cloak, and left the room.

Aleos scowled at Orior. "You going to leave, too?"

"Nah," he responded, "there wouldn't be much point in that. You and me, Aleos, need to talk, man-to-man. But first, we need to rouse the others, and see if any of the Heroes have suffered the same encounter we did. We may be in trouble."

Aleos' eyes widened. "By the void, that's right! We better move, now." And even as he spoke, they became aware of the muffled shouts of alarm and groggy surprise drifting through the window. He made as if to leave the room.

Orior laid a warning hand on his shoulder. "But. We will talk about this."

Aleos scowled once more, but stopped when Orior glared at him. "… Okay."

Cinaed caught up to Maris in the hall. "Maris!" he said, sharper than he intended. He put a hand on her shoulder to stop her, but she shrugged it off and kept running.

"Leave me alone now, Cinaed! I just need some time to myself!" And without another word, she ran out into the night, leaving Cinaed at a loss behind.

That's where they found Maris, sitting on the bridge, legs hanging over the edge to feel the spray of the river as it splashed against the rocks. She was sniffling, her navy hair wet and plastered against her face; she looked like as if she had gotten a little too close to the river.

Shamira and Sheba, who had been out for a walk together, talking of Sheba's life in Lalivero, and stumbled inadvertently upon Maris. Shamira immediately knelt down, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Maris, what happened? What's wrong?"

Maris sniffed, and wiped a tear from her eye. "Oh, it's that bastard Aleos!" she said angrily. "He thinks he'd all that and a bag of chips."

Shamira laughed. "Well, that's nothing new," she said, looping an arm comforting around Maris' shoulder. "What did he do this time? Not give anybody any spending money again?"

"He called me a whore," Maris said icily.

"I've said worse," Shamira said indifferently. Noticing Maris' glare, she hastily corrected, "not about you, of course. But seriously, don't pay any attention to him. He's probably just being difficult. Do you know what got him in that mood?"

"Uh, yeah." Maris' eyes widened. "Oh Mercury, I forgot! We were attacked by some strange demons, and while we weren't really hurt, all our weapons got stolen!"

Shamira cursed. "I left my weapons back at Sheba's tent – that's where I'm staying. We ought to get back, wouldn't you say, Sheba?"

Sheba, who had remained characteristically quiet, rolled her eyes. "No duh, genius. Let's get back," with that, she tugged Shamira away.

"Talk to you tomorrow, Maris!" Shamira waved.

"Goodbye, Shamira, and stay safe. Look out for demons and stuff." Maris smiled.

But the night was not over, she returned to the inn, her mind slowly turning to what she would inevitably have to face.

One thousand years. One thousand years. Fifty generations over their own, life spent in a time that wasn't their own.

She went to see Aleos.

At first, they just stood facing each other, glaring, while Orior stood on the sidelines, arms crossed – ever the responsible one, and Cinaed stood closer to Maris, glaring at Aleos.

"Aleos, I-"

But he cut her off. "Maris, stop. Both of us said stuff we should not have, and both of us now have to live with the consequences. That's just the way it is."

Maris looked back at him, sadness tugging its weight on the corners of her mouth. "You know things won't be the same again between us, Aleos, not anytime soon."

"All the better that we'll soon be separated on our quest," he said, sharper than he intended.

Orior glanced up at him warningly, and he saw Cinaed curl his lip faintly in distaste.

Aleos threw up his arms. "Fine, side with her. Prepare your adepts to leave tomorrow, that's all I ask." With that, he stormed out of the room.

They looked at each other. "This is not a good omen for the start of our journey," Orior murmured.

"Find the others."

"So, what you're telling me," Sheba said sceptically, looking from one downcast, darkened face to the other, "is that we're about to set out on the apparently greatest trial yet, already been thrown aside by some demons from hell, and on top of that, all our equipment has been stolen?"

"That's what we're telling you," Jenna confirmed with a smile.

"Great," Sheba said, rubbing her hands together. "It can't be any crazier than half the stuff we've already done."

The eight heroes, Kraden, and the Fivefold were gathered at the entrance to Vale, hoisting their packs, each full of Herbs, food, and sleeping materials. A small crowd from Vale, mostly friends and family, had gathered to see them off.

"I feel naked without a weapon," Cinaed commented dryly, his eyes red and tired. He had spent most of the night fighting off demons and then Maris and Aleos off each other, and it was enough to make any man feel stretched a little thin. The absence of the comforting weight of his halberd across his back was something he keenly felt, but he tried to ignore it.

"Don't worry, we're not entirely without weapons," Cara's voice called out from behind the crowd. It parted for her, and the two burly weaponsmiths dragging a wheelbarrow full of weapons behind them. "These just came in from Prox, and I reckon you'll need them more than any of us. They're not the majestic weapons you're used to, but they're functional. Vale's footing the bill for it, so we have to definitely accomplish our mission."

The Adepts crowded around the wheelbarrow, as the shopkeepers stood back and let them pick what they thought would be best for them.

Ivan, Jenna, Shamira, and Piers selected Master Rapiers, a blade that seemed to shine white in polished steel, with a gold-hued bellguard that curved back over their fingers.

Felix, Isaac, and Orior chose Great Swords, six foot blades that seemed capable of crushing stone, with a similarly gold hilt and handle, and a pearly white blade that reflected hues of sapphire, so that it seemed water ran down the edge of the blade like a stream, reflecting the light.

Cinaed and Garet, macho Mars Adepts through and through, each selected a giant double-bladed Great Axe, each five feet across at the head and four feet long.

Mia, Sheba, and Maris all took Martial Staves, a design recently imported from Xian. They were each five feet of hollow, lightweight steel, with a blade of cold iron in the head.

Aleos snarled at the wagonload of weapons. "I fight with Masamune or with none at all."

The weaponmaster shrugged at him. "It's your life, buddy."

Isaac scanned the faces of his friends. "All ready?"

They looked at each other, and nodded. The Fivefold exchanged looks and did the same, save for Maris, pointedly avoiding Aleos' searching look.

He shrugged. "Let's move out."

Shortly after, everyone was gathered with packs in hand, lingering around the gates of Vale as the townsfolk stood around to say goodbye. The heroes exchanged looks that seemed a bit anxious, a bit reserved, and a bit curious. They were about to set off on a journey with a group of five adults who just appeared on their doorstep and instantly gained the trust of the elders of their village.

But after witnessing the assault against the Elder by that demon, they couldn't deny that something was wrong. And if they didn't at least try to see why monsters were appearing, they couldn't call themselves heroes.

Not that they did anyway, of course.

As for the Fivefold, they were still a little hurt, upset, and confused. They had gone through their own quest, were thrown in a thousand-year hell as a reward, and now discovered that they had to go on yet another.

As for Kraden, he was simply thrilled to be journeying with the Wise One.

"Well," Aleos said, turning to face the open fields of Weyard. "Let us begin the advent of our adventure."

**Glitter like a swarm of fireflies tangled in a silver braid**

The road was exactly as they had all remembered, and despite their misgivings about the future they faced and the hardships ahead, they couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement.

They walked a few miles down the road to Vault, the few trees that survived the destruction of Vale standing proud and tall among a sea of tiny saplings. The road was cleared for a hundred feet on either side for larger parties, a wide and grassy river that flowed down from the mountains towards the civilization of Vault.

The sky above them was a clear, crystal blue, devoid of clouds and fresh with the scent of hope, of adventure, of new things and new opportunities. They began to swing into that gait, the easy travellers gait that wasn't fast, but conserved energy and set them for a long hard day of walking until they got to their closest destination. They tried to let the sunny weather distract them from the thought that they would have to say goodbye to some of their friends and the crossroads, as some walked down the roads fated to them, while others continued on.

Fortunately, or perhaps not so, they were provided with an easier distraction.

The soil churned before them, rocks splintering like wood and dirt erupting into the air like the flash of sparks from an anvil. The ground wilted away and peeled back as something rose from the depths beneath. Long and arcing tentacles burst from the ground and waved through the air searchingly, before planting themselves like sick plants in the ground, as even more quested from the ground beyond.

The thirteen heroes stood, and as one, drew their weapons – all save for Aleos, who really needed no weapon. Kraden stepped back to observe, as the monster roared from the ground.

It resembled a massive, seething nest of tentacles, each attached to a cone-like centrepiece, which seemed the creature's head. Many smaller tentacles on its bottom reached out and hefted it out of the ground, where it hovered placidly. Its veritable forest of tentacles whipped around, then each twisted and touched its tip almost docilely to the ground, some threading over others. It exposed the cone core of the beast, a rounded and hairless thing nonetheless corded with muscle.

As they watched in disbelief, a figure ascended the far side of the monster and stood on its head while the creature stood still. The figure wore a ragged brown cloak, edges torn and frayed, with a high hood pulled low of its face and a blue breastplate over the chest. It extended one cool, pale hand towards the heroes, and in its voice they heard the faint shadow of a smile.

"Good afternoon, heroes. Lovely day for an adventure, isn't it? Our perhaps you're just sightseeing? 'cause I dearly, dearly hope you aren't out to oppose any demonic overlords, are you? That would be tragic, and also ultimately futile. My master has waited for many many years to have this chance to rule Weyard, and his army is vast. Submit, throw down your weapons, and we might let you live as slaves."

_Tell them exactly what I tell you to,_ a voice said quietly in his mind, and he felt a nick of pain in his skull.

He winced mentally. _Yes, master…_

_Or, better yet, my little bishie…_

"Or, better yet," the messenger said slowly. "Relinquish the Golden Sun, also known as Sol Aurarius, from your possession, and we'll leave you alone completely and even carve a place for you in the coming New World."

_I'd appreciate it if you didn't speak through my voice, Demante. _

_Pay attention, Alex, you might learn something. I figured this experience would be educational for you, and that's why you're here. So pay attention – these are your enemies._

_Does that include Mia?_ Alex responded, as he gazed at her confused face from under his hood.

_She… she is whatever you want her to be, my comrade._

"The Golden Sun?" Isaac said angrily, hand on his blade. "You've made a mistake, _sir_. It lies in the hands of Alex, not us. If you think it does, perhaps you are even more deluded than he was."

He clenched his fists, but was stopped from attacking by the voice in his mind. _Do nothing, Alex. Leave them to think on it, so they begin to doubt… they must not realize what they have, but so long as the possibility is in their mind…_

Alex bowed deeply. "Alas. I leave you to play with Demante's gift. Perhaps we shall meet again. I shall be back for the Golden Sun."

_Could we not have taken it there? _Alex thought angrily. _What's stopping us?_

_They are stronger than they appear, _Demante answered. _These things must be done delicately… we shall pick them off, one at a time, and so slowly increase in power, while theirs decreases. Now, return, Alex!_

And the figure disappeared in a swirl of shadow.

Before the heroes could recover from that encounter, the monstrosity before them stirred.

It rose to its full height once more, ripple upon rippling tentacle raising into the air as it squirmed, clods of earth wrenched from the ground as it swung around haphazardly. And then, as if it had ways of sensing them beyond mere sight or hearing – for no eyes or ears could they see – it began to move towards them.

And then, it attacked.

Quick as lightning, the tentacles lashed out like whips and slapped the heroes, as its smaller tentacles continued to relentlessly manoeuvre the beast closer and closer, as it could bring more and more of its tentacles to bear.

"This is going to be one hell of an adventure, I think!" Garet said, swinging his axe wildly as he fought back to back with Piers.

"Now, wherever would you have drawn that conclusion from?" he returned, as he swung his rapier up in a quick arc and slashed one of the tentacles down the centre – but a shout of exultation quickly soured in his throat as both halves turned to him and began to strike anew.

Isaac and Felix circled each other, Great Swords sketching a whirlwind of motion in the air as the two frantically fought to keep the tentacles from grabbing one or the other.

Cinaed and Orior worked in concert to keep the tentacles away from the staff users, sweat pouring down their faces as they strained beneath heavy armour, fighting with unfamiliar blades. Mia, Sheba, and Maris stood within their field of protection, and they nodded at each other and as one began to charge their psynergies.

The monster seemed to cringe for a moment as an aura of violet and blue exploded beneath it, as the three women raised their arms. Cinaed and Orior moved aside as they cast their psynergies – a dragon-shaped river of water bursting forth from the two Mercury Adepts, lightning crackling in its mouth and from its eyes, as it wrapped miasmal body around the beast – then, gaping jaw plunging, teeth trying to tear into plantlike skin as it froze and exploded in a shower of razor-sharp crystals.

Psynergy shields flew up around the battlefield as crystals, glinting, tore through the air and drove into the ground.

They raised their heads, hesitant, and stared through a slowly shimmering cloud of snowdust.

Cinaed blew hair out of his eyes, and leaned panting on his axe. His eyes glowed darkly.

The cloud slowly fell, dreamlike, to the ground. The abomination didn't move for a moment as the curtain fell around it… and then writhed in rage. Merely irritated. Completely unharmed.

They stared in stupefaction.

That was all the beast needed to lash with every tentacle at once, wrapping tight around their bodies and lifting them high into the air.

"Psynergy immunity!" Shamira shouted, her hair flying around her face as the tentacle spun her madly through the air. "Son of an incestuous incubus!" she said, smashing her rapier against the tentacle holding her.

An action of futility.

The abomination's scales were leathery, impenetrable by such ordinary weaponry.

The tentacles swirled in a whirl and gathered at the centre as the beast's body opened, roselike, to reveal its gullet and razor teeth.

_Reaching through the air, Cinaed and Maris lock hands, their eyes saying everything._

_Psynergy flies into the belly of the beast as they fight to prolong their death._

_But it is inevitable._

_Darkness begins to swallow them as they are lowered, the rose-like petals beginning to close around them._

_Then suddenly, a flash. And blinding light._

_A cloaked figure rips through the wall of the petal and, in a tornado of whirling slashes, leaps from vine to vine, slashing it beneath him as he leaps to the next one._

_A long tongue emerges from the gullet below, black and slimy, searching for flesh._

_The figure executes a perfect backflip and pins the tongue to a vine with a elegant knife and severs both with his scimitar._

_They fall, dreamlike, as the vines fall to pieces around them._

_They plunge into the gullet of the beast._

_But this time, they are ready._

_They tear it apart from the inside out._

"Disgusting," Mia commented elegantly, and wiped monster blood and digestive juices off on Garet's tunic, who was just as covered as she was.

"Hold still," Maris said cheerfully, and soaked everyone with douse. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" But her grip on Cinaed's hand tightened.

Isaac breathed. "I don't think we appreciated how vulnerable we are without our weapons until now. Things may have been different without psynergy, but we must be prepared for the inevitability. That was too close," he said, holding out his hand.

It was shaking.

"It seems the enemy is prepared for us," Aleos said quietly. "In such a situation, is it truly wise to divide our forces? I know I can protect myself, but I don't know about you all."

As he said this his eyes strayed to Cara, white as a sheet and her eyes glistening from fear. Her weapon hung loose in her hands.

"We can handle ourselves," Felix said confidently. "There is no need to stray from what is planned."

Garet clapped him on the back. "Good man, Felix. Always knew you had some gut in you."

"Ahem," the cloaked figure coughed.

All eyes immediately shot to him in surprise.

"Ah, yes," Shamira said, shooting the figure a casual salute as she fingercombed monster goop from Sheba's hair. "Thank you for saving us, whoever you are."

The figure lowered his hood to reveal a familiar face.

He smirked and, throwing back his long black hair, thumbed his hooked nose at them. "My name is Lunpa, of course."

**Glitter like a swarm of fireflies tangled in a silver braid**

He awoke knowing everything, and yet knowing nothing.

The world seemed… strange. Dreamlike. Everything seemed… soft, fuzzy around the edges. As if someone had taken a cloth to the world and blurred the lines of colour. Red melted into orange melted into the cold white of the sky, speckled with black points.

He saw this through the window, as he lay, neck craned back, staring at the sky.

He knew that sky. But it was not supposed to be a cold white; it was supposed to be a comforting, warm dark. And the stars were not black, they sparkled with life. He had laid beneath them many times, sweat drying off his body in the cool air, her hand in his.

He remembered that.

But he did not remember why the world was reversed… why every colour he thought he knew was inverted and perverted, why black was white and the cool blue curtains of the Proxian inn a soft and malleable red.

He remembered his name, and her's.

Saturos. And Menardi.

"… Saturos?" her voice, soft and hesitant, the satin voice she only used when they were alone.

He must have spoken aloud. Turning his head, and hearing the rustling of the pillow, he assured himself that he was not dreaming.

She lay in a bed beside his, wrapped in a black shroud, as he was. Her hair was impeccably perfect, as it always was, her soft red eyes blinking.

She, at least, was right. And familiar.

Grunting, he swung himself out of the bed, tossing the sheets away from him angrily. He was frustrated. He was out of his element, confused, and in a foreign environment. His muscles bulged as the dragonblood began to beat in his veins, and his eyes slitted, snakelike.

If this was Prox, why did it feel so wrong?

There was a rustling as Menardi moved off the sheets.

She stood before him, finger plucking at the collar of her dress.

His eyes fell and noticed the deep blue dress she wore. It was a funeral dress, but the colour was wrong.

He felt her eyes on him and raised his to meet them.

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but instead she simply rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him, digging her nails into his back to reassure them both they were there.

"What the Gehenna happened there?" she said through gritted teeth. "Last I remember, we were on the Aerie. The beacon was finally lit… I remember feeling elated, and then the bloodlust surged… what happened after that?"

He grimaced. "I don't remember," he said flatly.

He looked around at the room. It was deathly silent. His trained ears picked up not a scurry, not a footstep, not a whisper of air. Everything hung straight down, flat and dead. The door stood ajar.

"Walk with me, Menardi," he said, blood pounding in his veins.

She nodded, and together they stepped outside the door.

It was not just the stars that were black.

The houses of Prox were a strange, sickly yellow, and the snow they walked through was as black as ebony.

They could feel the wetness of the snow, but it was distant, and somehow false.

They kept walking through the silent streets, and stood at the gateway to Prox.

And looked out across the expanse of sparkling obsidian that was the tundra, an endless black expanse that reached all the way out as far as they could see… and at the very, very limits of their vision, there was an ominous red glow, reflecting the light of the black stars above.

The dead sky reached down with fingers wisped with black clouds, and touched where the bloody sea met the blackened snow.

"I've read of this realm," Saturos said quietly. "The world where everything is silent, and the world of the physical is reflected."

He turned to Menardi.

"Menardi, my little phoenix… we died on the Aerie. Remember? We fell into the beacon."

Menardi's eyes widened, and stepped forward she grabbed his collar. "What are you saying? This better not be another one of your jokes, Saturos!"

Saturos simply wrapped an arm around her and inclined his head, resting it in her hair. Of all the things here, alone, she felt alive.

Ironic.

"This is the spirit world," he whispered. "Realm of the dead."

--


End file.
